


Hero of the Story

by atetheredmind (s_e_irvine)



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 49,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_e_irvine/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the end of the summer, Peeta Mellark had married the shoemaker's daughter. And by the end of the summer, Katniss had wed Gale in a small toasting ceremony. AU where Prim and Peeta are never reaped, and where there is no mockingjay, no rebellion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It happened a few weeks after Prim's last reaping.

Her name had not been chosen from the slips of thousands, and as she hugged her little sister in the square, after the two unlucky tributes had been swept inside the Justice Hall and the crowd had dispersed, Katniss could finally breathe; she could finally breathe for the first time in 18 years. Her sister was safe. They could be happy now. What else was there to worry about?

As it turned out, there was plenty.

At 22, Katniss hadn't done a lot of the things expected of her. She refused a job in the mines, and her particular skills set wasn't conducive to any sort of work in town—not that the Merchants, even if they hadn't delegated all their jobs to family members, would ever consider her for a position within their shops. Instead, she did what she did best: She bucked the Capitol's rules. She still hunted, trading the game she caught around town. In addition, she made contraband prophylactics from animal intestines and sold them in the Hob.

The idea had come to her when she was hunting in the woods alone one day and had spotted two squirrels rutting furiously in a tree. Birth control wasn't entirely legal in the districts—the Capitol needed its sacrificial lambs for the games, after all—but healers like her mother knew of herbs to prevent conception—or to terminate pregnancy. At some point, condoms had been sold in the Hob; a man from the Seam, Micah, had a connection in the Capitol and used to sneak shipments of condoms on the trains until someone higher up in the Capitol got wind of it, effectively putting a stop to the shipments. They never saw Micah again after that.

Gale had been particularly amused by her new craft and had told her that if he didn't have to work in the mines, he would have gladly helped her with fashioning the animal-skin condoms. But he needed the pay from the mines, the steady source of income, because he still had his siblings to care for.

Gale was another problem unto himself. After Katniss' last reaping, he had asked her to marry him. She had been utterly dumbfounded, to say the least—though, in retrospect, she now understood the cryptic things he'd said to her over the years, the lingering looks, the more-than-friendly touches. Flustered, she had told him what she had always told herself: She didn't want to get married, and she didn't want to have kids. She had Prim to worry about, and she couldn't think about anything else. He had been crushed, and a little angry, but he was persistent; he insisted they didn't have to get married until Prim was out of the reaping. He insisted he could wait.

She didn't have the heart to tell him he might be waiting forever.

Regardless, the two of them had lapsed into a strange limbo—they were something more than friends, but she didn't know how to define it. She never referred to him as her boyfriend, but she knew he was hers, and she was his; what else mattered? Before him, she had never given much (any) thought to sex. It was a purely biological impulse, she thought, needed for the purpose of recreating—and she had no intentions of ever doing that. But when her relationship with Gale turned physical, tentative kisses blossoming into heavy touching, she knew; finally, she understood the pull of sex. When he bent her over at the slag heap or took her up against a tree in the woods, she thought, at least they could have this; she could always give him this.

And true to his word, Gale didn't pressure her about marriage during those years. He seemed content with just exploring their physical relationship, and a large part of Katniss hoped it could always stay like that. But the day after Prim's last reaping, he began dropping hints about a larger commitment. She feigned ignorance, which had always worked so well for her in the past, but Gale's patience ran out. When he asked her again, point-blank, if she wanted to marry him, she didn't know what to tell him. "I need more time, Gale," she'd told him weakly, not sure if all the time in the world could ever be enough to change her mind. But she couldn't bear to disappoint him, not after everything, and he was stubborn; he was convinced he could wait her out. And she was sure she would never relent.

Coins in hand, Katniss crossed through town, heading for the bakery. It was a bittersweet day for her; Prim, her little sister, who wasn't so little anymore, was newly engaged to a boy from town. The news had been a little scandalous, as she was from the Seam, but most people seemed to forget that fact; seeing her blonde hair and blue eyes, they were willing to overlook her birth class and welcome her into theirs. Prim was easy to like. Katniss was happy for her sister; she really was. But she was also heartbroken. She had devoted 18 years of her life to helping raise her, protecting her; now that she was ready to start a family of her own with a man who would be responsible for looking after her, Katniss didn't know what to do with herself anymore. She had cried when Prim had announced the engagement, ruining the occasion for her sweet sister. And, now, ashamed of her dramatics, Katniss had decided to buy Prim a cake, something she never could have done before. To congratulate her, and to apologize.

Circling to the back of the bakery, she knocked curtly on the door and waited. She could hear a commotion inside and, finally, the back door opened. Barm, the eldest Mellark son, answered, a wide grin plastered on his face. When he saw her, his eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, hey, Katniss. Here for the cake?" he asked pleasantly, and she nodded.

She had commissioned the cake a couple days ago. Barm, who had taken over the bakery from his father, had helped her with the details.

Joyous laughter echoed from somewhere in the bakery behind him, and he glanced behind him. "Sorry, things are a little hectic right now," he explained apologetically, but his face still glowed with happiness. "I almost forgot you were coming by today. Hold tight, and I'll get the cake for you."

He disappeared inside, leaving the door open, and she stared after him curiously. It was only then that she realized he wasn't wearing his usual apron. He looked like he was dressed for the reaping, actually, with a nice pair of slacks and a white dress shirt. Confused, she leaned through the doorway slightly, trying to peer around the corner, where snippets of indecipherable conversations drifted toward her. Just then, Barm emerged from another room, holding a box. She jerked back, a slight blush coloring her cheeks, but he hadn't noticed her snooping. "Here you go," he said, handing the box to her, and she dropped the coins in his open palm.

"Are you closed? I'm sorry to have intruded..." she trailed off uneasily, but he waved her apology off.

"Ah, it's fine. We didn't plan to be closed today, but, well, it's a momentous occasion," he said proudly, and at her clueless expression, he beamed. "Peeta, my baby brother, is finally getting married."

The box holding the cake nearly slipped from her hands, and she was sure her heart had stopped beating in that moment.

Peeta.

Peeta Mellark was getting married. Peeta, the boy with the bread. He was getting _married_.

Barm must have taken her stricken expression for surprise because he laughed, nodding his head as if he shared her thoughts. "I know. We didn't think it was ever going to happen. He never could stick with one girl for too long, and I was sure he was never going to settle down. But I guess he finally found the one. We're getting ready to head to the Justice Building right now, so it's lucky you stopped by when you did."

Katniss was lost, somewhere in time, somewhere 11 years ago. No, not lost—she was still at the bakery, but out front, crawling through the mud for a couple loaves of bread, the icy sheets of rain beating her relentlessly, beating her the way his mother had beaten him for burning the bread.

And she had never said thank you. Had never even spoken to him. Never even...never even...what? What did she not do that she could never do now?

She didn't know. She didn't understand the pit that had ripped open in her stomach. She felt lightheaded all of a sudden, and she shook her head, trying to shake the dread squeezing at her heart.

"You okay?" Barm asked, eyeing her strangely, and she snapped back to attention.

"Yes—yes, I'm fine, I'm fine," she babbled, shifting the cake to one hand so she could wipe the sweat from her forehead. "It's just—hot out here." He nodded in understanding. "Well, thank you—thank you for the cake. And...and..."

"Hey, Barm, you coming? We're about to head out," a voice called out behind him, a voice she knew well, and then he was there. Their eyes locked over Barm's shoulder, as they had done many times before, but this time neither gray nor blue flitted away.

Peeta stared at her, his jaw going slack as something indecipherable skittered across his face, and she was frozen to her spot, her heart in her throat. But Barm was oblivious to the exchange, throwing a confirmation to his brother over his shoulder. His words snapped Katniss from her daze, and she blinked rapidly.

"Congratulations," she squeaked, and she was gone before either could respond, walking as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself. But when she reached the Seam, she broke into a run, not sure where her feet were taking her.

It wasn't until she stumbled through the berry bushes at the rocky ledge where she and Gale always met for their hunting trips that she even realized she was in the woods. She collapsed on the ledge, her heart still beating wildly. Only then did she remember the cake in her hands.

What was wrong with her? She felt like she had lost something she never had. It was just guilt, she reasoned, that horrible feeling in her gut. Guilt that she still had never thanked him for the bread, for the beating he took to save her. She didn't know how to deal with the weight of a debt unpaid.

This was silly. She was being absolutely stupid.

Katniss stared at the box in her hand, opening it gingerly. The cake inside was small, covered in beautiful, hand-crafted primroses made of fondant. Or something like that. Barm had waxed poetic about how the cake was going to be prepared, but she hadn't understood most of the terms he had used. The icing was white, and inside the cake was yellow—at least, it should be; that's what Barm had promised. She admired the delicate flowers, wondering whose hands had crafted them. Barm had said his brother would decorate the cake, as he was much better at it than him, but he didn't specify which one, and she didn't ask.

Somehow, looking at the primroses, she knew they had been done by Peeta's hand.

She slammed the box closed, but she didn't leave yet. She sat huddled on that ledge for hours, lost in thought. When the sun was low in the sky, she knew what she had to do.

Back at home, Prim wept when she saw the cake. They invited the Hawthornes over to share the decadent dessert—after all, rarely did anyone in the Seam get to indulge in such treats. Before Gale left, his family already trudging back to their house, Katniss stopped him on the porch and pulled him aside. He watched her so intently, she nearly lost her nerve.

"Let's do it," she finally managed to choke out, but he looked confused. "Let's get married."

Gale's eyes widened in disbelief. "Really? You mean it?" She nodded, and his face split into a grin so wide, her own cheeks hurt. Then he started laughing, and he lifted her into a hug, spinning her around. The sound of his joy was contagious, and soon she was laughing, too. When he placed her back on the porch, she swayed in his arms, slightly dizzy, but he held her tight. "I can't believe it," he said, then he cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting into the night, "Katniss Everdeen just agreed to marry me!"

She shushed him, mortified, but he kissed her anyway, a kiss both heated and slow. She fisted his shirt in her hands, and when he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers. "I love you," he whispered, his voice shaking with happiness.

The words stuck in her throat. They had never said them to each other, but she thought it was understood. It hadn't been an easy realization for her to swallow, but she knew years ago that she loved him. At the time, it hadn't been more than a platonic rendering, born of a mutual hardship and an understanding they had of each other that no one else could ever touch. And now, she knew it was something more. He deserved to be loved by her—by someone better, really—but he deserved to hear it, at least.

"I—I love you, too," she murmured tremulously, and he sealed the declaration with a kiss.

And in that moment, she was happy.

 

By the end of the summer, Peeta Mellark had married the shoemaker's daughter, and the two of them moved into a house not far from the bakery.

By the end of the summer, Prim had married and moved with her husband to a new house in town.

And by the end of the summer, Katniss and Gale were wed in a small toasting ceremony in their new (old) house in the Seam. She wouldn't let him use any bread from the bakery, however, insisting on the bland drop biscuits she had whipped up herself.

 

The first few years were good. She was happy with Gale, she was—at least, as happy as she thought herself capable of being. And he was happy, too.

But then he started asking about the possibility of children, and she knew the bubble of their blissful domesticity had been popped.

"Gale, you know I don't want children," she said slowly, carefully. "I've told you this before."

He just stared at her in disbelief. "I didn't know you meant...I mean, ever? You don't want kids— _ever_?"

"I thought you understood. I thought this was something we both understood." She could feel her precarious grip on a peaceful, undisturbed life slipping already.

He sighed. "I understand your hesitation, I do, but...if I were going to have kids, I would want them with you. You don't ever think about—about having my children, raising them together?" he asked, and she didn't know how to respond because the answer was no, never. How could he want kids when the reaping loomed every year, ready to snatch them from the tentative safety of their lives in District 12, however miserable? How could anyone?

"I don't want kids," she repeated stubbornly, and his face hardened, but he didn't speak of the subject anymore, at least for a few months.

Her opposition was only heightened the day Prim told her she was pregnant, and Katniss felt the fear as if it were her own child. And she knew then that she would never be free from the worry, the terror of the games.

The topic of children became a source of contention in her and Gale's relationship. After their first conversation, she thought he had dropped the notion, but soon, he began hinting at the prospect again, making offhanded comments that left her agitated and unsettled. When he finally asked her again, her frustration boiled over, sparking a heated fight between the two of them that ended with her crying in anger and him storming out of the house. He came back hours later, smelling of liquor, but he apologized profusely. He took her on the kitchen table that night, and she let him work out his rage on her.

After a while, that was all their relationship seemed to be: fighting and butting heads and furiously fucking to make amends. She always made him wear a condom, though, and eventually, he came to resent her for that, as well, until, finally, they stopped having sex. Now their relationship was just fighting and butting heads and tiptoeing around each other, waiting for the next eventual blow-up.

She was miserable. He was miserable. She was consumed with the guilt of denying him children, but she had warned him, hadn't she? He could leave her if he wanted, but she knew he wouldn't. He was just as stubborn as she was, and though most days she wished he had met and fallen in love with someone else, someone who actually wanted to bear his children, admitting defeat was a hard pill to swallow for her, too.

 

Katniss hoisted her game bag over her shoulder as she made her rounds through town. It was Wednesday, her usual day for trading. Once she'd started her business in the Hob, she'd had to switch her main hunting days from Sunday to Wednesday, as Sundays were typically a busy day in the Hob. The switch was just another thing Gale resented her for, she knew.

Leaving the apothecary, she headed for the bakery. At the back door, she rapped twice, already pulling out the squirrel she normally traded with Barm.

But it wasn't Barm who answered the door. It was Peeta.

Startled, she dropped the squirrel on the door step. "Oh!" she breathed, and they both leaned down to pick it up, fumbling awkwardly for the dead rodent. She let him pick it up, straightening up quickly, and he handed it back to her with an odd smile. Flustered, she took it from him, but then she held it back out to him. "Well, this is for you—or Barm—or, or whoever," she stuttered, trying to will away the embarrassed flush that had crept up her neck. With another smile, Peeta took the squirrel from her.

"I can give it to Barm for you," he said. "I'm filling in for him right now. Marnie—his wife, sorry—just had her baby, but there were some...complications, so he's taking some time off to take care of her and the baby while she rests."

Katniss nodded mutely, not sure what to say. It wasn't unusual for women of Marnie's age to have children, especially with the lack of any real sexual education and district-approved contraception, but she'd heard talk around town that the baby hadn't been planned; they already had two, and there was a bit of an age gap between this one and the others. Katniss knew from her brief conversations with Barm that this pregnancy had been tough on his wife. She wondered if her mother or Prim had assisted in the delivery.

Peeta seemed to notice her discomfort, and, perhaps realizing he'd said too much, he scratched the back of his head. "Okay, well, I can give this to him," he repeated, holding up the squirrel. "What does he normally give you in exchange?"

She cleared her throat, trying to look at anything but him. "Two loaves."

"Any kind of bread in particular?"

Her mouth went dry, and it took her a couple tries to force the answer out. "Raisin and nuts." He started to turn around, but then his body jolted, as if he had fully registered her words. He froze, and they locked eyes.

He remembered. All these years later, and he still remembered that day, too. His cheeks colored, and he finally broke her gaze. "I'll go get it," he muttered, marching back inside, and she took a deep breath, fighting her racing heart. When he returned, he held out a brown paper bag to her. "Here you go."

"Thanks," she whispered, taking a step back to make a hasty retreat.

"Katniss," he said, pulling her up short. He'd said her name; he had never said her name before. She stared at him, wide-eyed.

"You look good," he finished, his voice cracking.

No, she didn't. She knew she didn't. She looked like shit. She and Gale had had another fight the night before, and they were up way too late hurling accusations and insults at each other. Her face was lined with exhaustion, the circles under her eyes dark and puffy.

And yet, Peeta's words made her heart flutter. "You, too," she found herself saying before she could think, and then she was gone, darting around the bakery. Safe in her house she shared with Gale, she collapsed at the kitchen table, flinging the offending bag of bread halfway across the table. She dropped her head in her hand, glad Gale was in the mines; she really needed a moment alone, just a moment to think. What was wrong with her? How could it be 20 fucking years later and she still be so affected by the sight of him?

Since that day at the bakery, the day he got married, the day she'd finally accepted Gale's proposal, she had done her best not to cross paths with Peeta Mellark. He hadn't been hard to avoid, really, since he no longer worked at the bakery. With Barm in charge, getting supplemental help from his parents who still lived above the bakery, as well as his wife and his children, there was really no need for the two younger Mellark brothers. Rye, the middle son, now worked as an accountant at the Justice Building, and Peeta was a teacher at the school. He also coached the wrestling team. Their paths never really intersected, aside from when she'd spot him across town while visiting Prim.

She hadn't been prepared for seeing him today, for actually speaking with him. It was summer, and school was out, so she supposed that was why he had the time to cover for Barm at the bakery. She found herself wondering about him, about his life, allowing herself for the first time in a while a moment to really think about the boy with the bread. She wondered if he was happy.

He had been married for nine years, but he didn't have any children of his own. She didn't give it much thought before, but there had been gossip around town about fertility issues; Prim had confirmed it to her indirectly, as she was the one trying to help his wife, Analise, conceive—to no avail. Katniss almost felt sorry for them—almost, because, she thought, out of everyone in the district, Peeta would probably make the best father.

She wondered how it made Peeta feel, knowing his wife couldn't conceive even one child, while his brother and his sister-in-law had more children than they had even wanted.

She wondered if he was happy, or if he was miserable like she was.

The following Wednesday, Katniss made her usual rounds trading, but before she went to the bakery, she checked the front of the store through the windows. All she saw were the aging Mr. Mellark and his wife assisting customers at the register; she couldn't tell who was in the back. With a sigh, she trudged around to the back of the bakery and knocked, holding her breath.

When the door opened to reveal Peeta, she didn't know if she wanted to curse or laugh. She tried to keep her face impassive, but he smiled at her, the warmth of it throwing her off guard. "Hi—again," she said nervously, fumbling with her game bag to retrieve the squirrel.

"Hi, Katniss," he said softly, and she wondered why he insisted on saying her name out loud.

"Is, uh—how's, uh, Marnie?" she asked, mentally kicking herself for her inability to string together a coherent sentence in his presence.

He pursed his lips, his eyes a little heavier now. "Better. She's still bedridden, but Barm is taking good care of her."

She nodded, pulling the squirrel out and holding it out to him. "And...the baby?" She didn't know why she asked, but it seemed rude not to.

"He's okay," Peeta replied, taking the game from her. He grinned suddenly, the action really lighting up his face, and she was momentarily stunned. "Though, I guess that's to be determined, really."

"What?"

He scratched the dark blonde scruff on his jaw. "Another boy. I feel kind of bad. Pretty soon, this town's going to be overrun by Mellark boys. Everyone must be sick of us by now," he joked lightly, and she knew that wasn't true. The Mellark men were well-liked by most people. And if the alternative was anything like his witch of a mother, another boy was much more preferable.

Still, a small smile curved her lips upward. "I highly doubt that," she said, and his grin slipped somewhat. He stared at her for a moment, his blue eyes rooting her to that doorstep, and she could scarcely breathe. Suddenly, he blinked and shook his head.

"Let me get your bread," he said, turning away from her, and she took a deep breath, her eyelids fluttering closed as she tried to regain her composure. By the time he returned, she had a better grip on her emotions, and she set her face back into a mask of its usual indifference. When he handed her the bag, however, he hesitated. "I, uh, slipped a little something extra in there."

She scowled, already thrusting the bag back toward him, but he pulled his hands away. "What? I don't need anything extra. That's not the deal," she accused.

Peeta held up his hands defensively. "I just thought—I just wanted to give you something different to try. They're cheese buns. It's something new we're trying out here, and I just—I just want your opinion. Just...taste them. I think you'll like them."

She huffed, jerking her game bag open. "Fine, then let me give you something else—"

His eyes widened. "No! No, really, Katniss, it's fine. You're doing us a favor, honest," he insisted, his hand closing over hers on the paper bag, and he thrust it back toward her. "Please. Just...let me know how you like them."

She would have objected more, but the feel of his soft fingers on her knuckles gave her pause. He seemed just as startled by the touch, and her eyes flickered between their hands and his surprised face, which mirrored her own. With a great deal of effort, she wrenched her hand from his and took a step down. "O-okay, fine," she said shakily, her heart beating uncomfortably hard. Confused, she shuffled in two different directions before righting her course, walking away quickly. She heard him call after her, and despite her better judgment, she glanced back. He waved, and she lifted her hand in a halfhearted parting gesture.

That night, she ate the cheese buns before Gale could see them. She knew he would question their sudden appearance, just as she would, and, for some reason she didn't understand, she didn't want to tell him. About the cheese buns or about Peeta. The two men did not coexist well in her mind.

But the buns were incredible. When she ate the last bite, the cheese melting on her tongue, she felt oddly empty despite how satisfying they were. She sucked the grease and crumbs from her fingers earnestly, already craving more.

 

The next time Katniss went to trade at the bakery, Barm was back. Despite her twinge of disappointment, she was relieved. Peeta confused her, and she already had enough stress in her life.

So that Sunday, when Peeta approached her at her usual spot in the Hob, she stared at him incredulously.

"Hi," he greeted her with a small smile as he stopped in front of her booth.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before her voice caught up with her brain. "What—what are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes darting around the Hob. Had anyone noticed him? Merchants didn't do business in the Hob often, unless they were buying alcohol or other contraband items. Her cursory survey of the warehouse revealed that no one seemed to be watching them, at least.

"Oh, well," he wavered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I'm not at the bakery now, and I just—I just wanted to see what you thought of the cheese buns. Did you like them?"

She nervously tucked some hair behind her ear, clearing her throat. "Um, yeah. Yes, I did. They were...they were really good."

Peeta smiled again. "Good. That's good. I'm glad. Did, uh, did Gale try them? What did he think?"

She flushed in embarrassment, looking around again. "Well, he, uh—no, he didn't. I kinda...I kinda ate them all myself."

He chuckled this time. "That's fine. I mean, that's good. I'm really glad you liked them that much," he said, and she shrugged, playing with her braid. They lapsed into silence, and he looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

"Did you come here just to ask that?" she blurted, and his eyebrows lifted.

"Oh, no, no. I actually came to—to buy from you. A condom, I mean." His cheeks reddened, and he visibly swallowed. She stared at him in disbelief, her own face growing hot.

"Okay," she finally squeaked, shuffling through her supplies. She couldn't even bring herself to ask him what size he needed; she just grabbed whatever her hand landed on and shoved it at him, muttering the price. He dropped some coins in her open palm, cramming the condom into his back pocket.

"Bye," he mumbled, hurrying away quickly. Katniss scrubbed a hand down her face.

It wasn't until he was gone that it struck her how odd it was that he had wanted a condom. If his wife was barren, why would they bother with protection? And why would they even want to use protection if they were trying to conceive? Was Prim mistaken about Analise Mellark's infertility? No, her sister wouldn't have made a mistake like that. So, why did he need a condom?

The answer hit her so hard, she nearly fell off her stool. He was sleeping with someone else. Suddenly, she flushed with an inexplicable rage, feeling stupid, like she had been duped somehow. Why should she care who he was fucking? She didn't. His personal life was none of her business.

But when she saw him in the Hob again a week later, she all but growled at him. "I'm not selling you another condom," she spat, and he pulled up short in front of her booth, his mouth dropping open.

"What? Why?"

She folded her arms over her chest. "I'm not going to—to aid you in whatever it is you're doing," she said, and when she realized how loud her voice had gotten, she lowered it; there was still an edge when she spoke, however. "I'm not going to help you cheat on your _wife_."

His face paled. "What? Cheat on my—" he stopped himself, glancing around in alarm, then he leaned closer, practically hissing, "I'm not cheating on my _wife_. Why the hell—what would make you think I'm cheating on Lissy?"

She blinked, dread pooling in her stomach. "I just—I mean...well, I just thought—I mean, I had heard that you two...that she...well, I didn't know why you would need a condom. So I thought you were—with someone else..." Shit.

His faced hardened, and his jaw clenched. He was silent for a moment, then he responded in a low, dangerous tone, "I am not cheating on Analise. But you're right; I don't need a condom." He looked away briefly before his eyes flitted back to her. "I didn't really come to buy anything from you. I just came to see you. But I fucked up. I'm an idiot." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'll stop bothering you." With that, he walked away, and she stared after him, dumbstruck.

What had just happened?

 

Over the next few days, Katniss waged an internal debate about whether she should apologize to Peeta. He had been nothing but nice to her in her limited interactions with him, and all she ever managed to do was spit in the face of his kindness.

She should apologize, she finally decided. There was no easy way to go about it, but she screwed up her courage and marched from the Seam to his house in town. She hesitated on his front step, shifting her game bag between her hands. As a woman from the Seam, she knew how it would look, her coming to his front door, so she hoped the presence of her game bag would ward off any suspicions. And she was fairly certain his wife wasn't home; she was a cleric at the Justice Building and should be at work in the middle of the day. Chewing on her lip, she forced herself to knock before she could talk herself out of it. Then she held her breath.

When Peeta opened the door, he narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Katniss—"

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, surprising him. "For the other day. In the Hob. I had no right to—to say what I did. It's none of my business what happens between you and your—and your wife."

Peeta pursed his lips, scratching his chin thoughtfully as he stared over her head, and she fidgeted in the silence. "No, it isn't any of your business," he said brusquely, and she flinched. He sighed, dropping his gaze to her face. "But I suppose everyone in this district has made it their business, so I'm not surprised you know. But I accept your apology."

She inhaled deeply, relieved. "Okay, well...that's all I wanted to say."

His brow creased as he stared at her, and his face softened. "Would you like to come in? For some tea?" he asked, opening the door wider, and she gawked at him.

"Isn't that—isn't that inappropriate?" she choked out, glancing around apprehensively.

Peeta slumped against the door frame with a wry smile. "More inappropriate than discussing my wife's infertility on my doorstep?"

Cringing, Katniss flushed in horror, and she opened her mouth to apologize again, but he waved it off. "It's fine. Stop apologizing. Have some tea with me, and we'll call it even, okay?"

With one last look over her shoulder, she tossed her game bag over her shoulder for added effect and followed him inside as he stepped aside to let her in. He led her to the kitchen, and she tried to discreetly inspect their home. It was nice. Cozy. Better decorated than her and Gale's house. She wondered if that was something Merchants were taught growing up, how to decorate their homes. She and Gale didn't much see the need for frivolous things like decorations, not when that money could be better spent on essentials. Like food and clothes. She felt a little envious, but she swallowed the feeling, standing awkwardly in his kitchen while he dug through the cabinets for cups.

"You have a nice home," she said quietly, setting her bag down. He looked back at her with a forced smile.

"Thank you," he said tightly, and she wondered if he was uncomfortable because he knew her house in the Seam was anything but nice. "Lissy's doing, I guess. I don't...really care for that stuff. Please, have a seat."

She perched awkwardly in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, as if she were ready to take off running at any moment. Peeta sat down across from her, setting two tea cups and a kettle down between them. "Would you like sugar?" he asked, offering her a cup of sugar cubes, and she shrugged.

"I guess."

He spooned a couple into her cup, then poured her some tea. He didn't put any sugar in his cup, she noted. He handed her a spoon, and she used it to stir her tea while he sipped from his own cup. They sat in silence for a moment, and she gulped her tea eagerly for something to do. Peeta watched her intently, and she began to squirm, setting her cup down.

"So, uh, condoms," he said abruptly, startling her. "That's an interesting trade. How did you get started doing that?"

She stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head. Birth control was normally a conversation she could have with anyone without batting an eye; it was just a trade to her, after all, and not something she found shameful. However, discussing it with _him_ made her break out into a light sweat. "Um. Well. I figured there was a real—a real dearth in birth control in this district," she said, looking at a cabinet behind him. "And, I guess, I figured since I had access to the, uh, components that I might as well." She shrugged, fidgeting with the spoon. "My mother helped me in the beginning, to figure out how to make them. Since her family was, you know, in the apothecary business, she knew a lot of useful information."

He nodded, and then he smiled. "You're really smart. Very resourceful."

She looked at him sharply. Was he mocking her? His expression looked genuine. "I...have to be," she said, unsure, and he just nodded again, sipping his tea. She struggled for something else to say. "How do you like teaching?"

He looked pleasantly surprised. "You know what I do?" She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Was it weird that she knew? She hid her face behind her cup, embarrassed. "I really like it. I teach reading and writing, things I enjoy. And I get to coach wrestling, which keeps me active. So it's good."

She nodded. "What do you do in the summers?"

He grinned. "Lose my mind." She raised an eyebrow, and he laughed at himself. "I get a little stir-crazy. Probably drive everyone else insane because I'm bugging them, trying to find something to do. I take odd jobs here and there. I bake. I draw. A lot."

That surprised her. "You draw?" He nodded, looking a little sheepish. Then he pointed to a picture that hung above the sink. Her eyes widened; the charcoal sketch was so vivid, so precise, that she immediately recognized the apple tree from behind the bakery. The one she had collapsed under 20 years ago. She swallowed thickly, trying to find the words. "That's really...really...good. It's really good," she said lamely, draining the last of her tea. She set the cup down. "I should probably—I should go."

"Wait," he said, stretching his arm toward her, but he flattened his palm against the table. "Katniss...I would really like to be your friend."

That pulled her up short. "Friend?" she repeated, and he nodded. Was that a joke? "You want to be my friend?" He smiled this time. "Don't you already have enough friends?"

He snapped his fingers. "You know what? You're right. I forgot I already made a new friend last week, so I guess I've hit my quota for the year." He grinned at her, and her lips twitched in amusement. "I do have friends, but I would still like to be yours."

Friends. She didn't really have any friends, she guessed. Gale used to be her best friend, but now that they were married and constantly fighting, she didn't really talk to him anymore, not like she had in the past. She used to be friends with Madge Undersee, but they drifted apart after they finished school, though Madge was pleasant enough when they ran into each other in town. And Katniss got along with the other vendors in the Hob, especially Greasy Sae and Ripper, but she couldn't say she'd ever invite anyone over for tea, or they, her. Really, the only person she talked to extensively was Prim, but Prim had a daughter to raise now, patients to tend to.

Katniss was kind of lonely, she realized. It wasn't a feeling she was used to; she usually liked her solitude. But maybe she could use a friend now.

"Okay," she said simply, and he quirked an eyebrow.

"So you'll allow it?" She nodded, and he smiled widely. "Okay." Sliding her chair back from the table, she stood up and grabbed her bag. Peeta stood up, too, and followed her to the door.

She turned around to face him. "Well...thank you for the tea, Peeta," she said, suddenly realizing how close he was to her. She was so unprepared for his proximity that when he pulled her into a hug, she found herself hugging him back before her reflexes kicked in and her body stiffened. He was already pulling away, the action so quick, but in that brief moment, she noticed three things. The first was how sturdy he was, how broad his chest was pressed against hers. The second was how he smelled, like cinnamon and dill—she thought she recognized—a scent that was so strangely alluring, so oddly masculine. The third was the way the soft scruff on his face scratched her neck. Gale always shaved; he said he hated the feel and smell of the coal dust collecting in his beard while he worked in the mines, and she agreed.

Peeta stepped back, looking as equally flustered. "Uh, sorry. Was that out of line?"

"N-no, it's fine, you're fine," she stammered, fumbling with the doorknob. "Bye." She tried not to rush out of his house, but it took every ounce of her self-control not to run as she crossed through town back to the Seam.

Katniss paced her living room, trying to quell the anxiety surging inside her. She and Peeta were just friends, barely that, even, as they had been mostly strangers not even an hour ago. She hardly knew him; she didn't know him enough to be fretting this much about him. It was only a hug. Peeta probably hugged all his friends. Just because she was emotionally and physically withdrawn, that didn't mean others were as uncomfortable with affection as she was. She replayed the way he wrapped his arms around her and flushed at the memory.

She needed a bath. Heating up some water on the stove, she gradually filled their small copper tub. By the time she had stripped off her clothes and slid into the tub, the water was only lukewarm, but she still sighed, the tension melting from her bones. She washed herself leisurely, lathering a washcloth with soap and running it over her body. Leaning her head back, she dragged the washcloth up to her neck, and, unbidden, she recalled the way Peeta's beard had grazed against her throat. She gasped, her eyes snapping open as the thought sent a pulse of desire between her thighs. Shit.

So, she was horny. Fine. She and Gale hadn't had sex in a while, and her body just craved a release. She brushed the washcloth over her breasts, and her other hand dropped under the water between her legs, her fingers quickly finding the bundle of nerves that begged for her attention. The tips of her fingers pressed down, moving deliberately, and she tried to conjure up an image of Gale to spark her arousal. But it was Peeta's grin, his bright blue eyes she saw, his broad back and his soft beard she felt when she shuddered in pleasure, gasping as she came. As the high of her climax subsided, she sank farther into the water, racked with guilt and shame, until the water lapped over her mouth. She shouldn't be thinking about another man like that. A man who was also married. What was wrong with her?

Katniss quickly climbed out of the tub and toweled off, dumping the bathwater out back. When Gale came home from work that evening, in her guilt, she sought out his affection. He regarded her suspiciously when she sat in his lap at the dinner table.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, and she shrugged, pressing kisses along his neck.

"I just thought you might like a little relief after your day," she murmured, sucking on his pulse point, and he groaned, his hands sliding under her shirt. She unbuttoned his pants and slipped her hand inside to grasp his growing erection. "Let's move to the bedroom."

They had sex for the first time in months; after he'd came, he peeled the condom off his cock and settled between her legs, finishing her using his tongue. Arching underneath him, she couldn't help but wonder what Peeta's beard would feel like against her thighs as he pleasured her with his mouth.

She lay awake for most of the night after that, Gale snoring away beside her, dead to the world.

 

The next week, Peeta sidled up to her booth in the Hob casually, and she fought the blush that heated her cheeks, trying not to think about her recurring fantasies that centered around him. "'Morning," he said, and she nodded in greeting.

"Come to purchase more condoms?" she asked, and he chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Ah, no, not this time," he replied, showing her a bottle of clear liquor he bought from Ripper. "But I thought I'd come bug you, anyway."

A shy smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "So, is this your idea of friendship? Because I'm starting to rethink this arrangement."

He grinned. "Have I scared you off already? This might be a new record for me. Maybe I need to draft a contract for all my new friends to sign or something," he mused, bracing himself against her booth.

"You should probably include a trial period so they can change their minds after a predetermined time frame," she suggested, and he pretended to mull her idea over.

"Or maybe I should start paying for my friends' time with cheese buns," he said with a crooked smile, and this time she blushed.

Clearing her throat, she brushed some loose pieces of hair off her face. "Is that part of the deal? Because forget what I said earlier. I think you might just be my new best friend," she replied, smiling when he laughed.

"Bribing friends with baked goods; I see. I guess I've been doing it wrong all this time," he lamented dramatically, and she shrugged.

"Ply them with cheese buns, and I think you'll never find yourself in short supply of friends."

"Well, now I know why I decided to befriend you. You clearly have all the best ideas," he said, quirking an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes, playing with her braid. With a sigh, he looked around before flashing her another smile. "I guess I should leave you alone now before I scare off your customers. They might think I'm buying up all your condoms," he joked, and she scoffed, smiling, anyway.

"Yeah, you should probably start baking right away if you plan to make any more friends," she said, and he bowed to her.

"Thank you for imparting your wisdom on me, Katniss." With one last smile, he walked away, her gaze lingering in the direction he'd left long after he was gone.

Fucked. She was fucked.

 

Making friends with Peeta Mellark was a terrible, ill thought-out idea, she realized. He came around too often, tracking her down at the Hob when she worked to "keep her company," he'd said. She was at least glad he actually purchased things while he was there, whether it was more alcohol from Ripper or some stew from Greasy Sae, because then it didn't look like he was solely visiting her. But he must have been because she'd never seen him in the Hob before. Was she his only friend who didn't work normal hours in an officially approved job? She just might have been; somehow, she doubted he had any other friends from the Seam.

And yet, despite knowing it was a bad idea, she still couldn't bring herself to send him away. She rather enjoyed his company. He made her laugh, something she didn't do often anymore—or ever, really. Peeta wasn't the only Merchant to patronize the Hob, not in the least, but he was the only one who spent time in her company, almost exclusively. Surely, people had to be talking.

That fact was confirmed to her when Gale confronted her about it over dinner one night.

"Are you fucking Peeta Mellark?" he asked, his voice razor sharp, his gray eyes glinting.

She blanched, dropping her fork to her plate. "What? No! What the hell—why would you even ask me that?" she demanded, her temper flaring.

He regarded her coldly, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her. "Thom told me Mellark's been hanging around you at the Hob. Why would he be hanging around you?"

Her nostrils flared, but underneath her anger she felt fear bubbling. "He's not—hanging around me. He's there to buy shit. He's there to buy alcohol and food, and he—he buys condoms from me. He stops to chat with everyone there," she said as evenly as she could, knowing she was partially lying.

Gale snorted, leaning back in his chair. "And what does he need condoms for?"

"I don't know! Ask him, ask his wife! Ask whoever he's sleeping with because it's not me!" she yelled. "I hardly even know him!"

He just shook his head, a sneer pulling at his lips. "Can you blame me for being suspicious? That guy's had a hard-on for you since school."

Her eyes widened. " _What_? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me you didn't notice," he said with a scoff. "He stared at you all the time! You mean to tell me you didn't notice? Bullshit."

"No, I—" Katniss faltered, gaping at him as she tried to digest the new information. Had she noticed Peeta staring at her? Of course. But because he liked her? No. That couldn't have been it. It was because of the bread. Because he expected a thank you or some kind of acknowledgement. That was why. Wasn't it? She shook her head, desperately clinging to her denial. "It doesn't matter what he thought of me in school. I'm not fucking him, and I can't even believe you would accuse me of something like that!"

She pushed away from the table and snatched her plate up, carrying it to the sink where she dropped it, loudly. She heard Gale stand up behind her.

"Whatever. I'm going to get a drink at the Hob," he said through gritted teeth, but she didn't acknowledge him. Their front door slammed shut, and she inhaled shakily. She was trembling now, and she gripped the sink so tight, her fingers turned white.

It didn't matter if Peeta liked her in school. That didn't mean he still liked her. That was a long time ago, and he was married now. If he had actually liked her, he would have said something sooner.

It didn't matter. She didn't like him, anyway.

But, then, why couldn't she stop thinking about him? Why did she think of him when she touched herself? Horrified, she buried her face in her hands. What had she gotten herself into?

It had to stop. She had to stop it. She couldn't be friends with Peeta Mellark anymore.

 

As he approached her booth the following Thursday afternoon, Peeta smiled easily at her, but she kept her face hard, an action that didn't go unnoticed by him. He frowned, stopping before her. "What's wrong?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice, and she shook her head.

"You need to stop coming around here," she said, her voice low. Her eyes darted around the Hob, wondering who was watching them, waiting to report back to Gale. Peeta's brow furrowed.

"Why?"

"Because." He watched her expectantly, and she huffed. "Because people talk, Peeta."

He looked at her oddly. "Yeah. I know they do. People always talk, Katniss. What's your point?"

She ground her teeth. "Stop playing dense. People talk, and they think you and I—you and I..."

He just blinked. "You and I what?"

"Oh, come off it, Peeta," she hissed, her fingers curling into fists. "You know what they're thinking."

He sighed, rubbing his scruffy chin. "So, what—a man and a woman can't just be friends anymore? Without something illicit going on?"

She glared at him. "No, not when the woman is from the _Seam_ , Peeta. You know how that looks to people."

His eyes darkened, his lips pursing stubbornly. "I don't care about that shit. These arbitrary class differences that dictate who can be friends with whom, who can love—" He stopped himself abruptly, swallowing, and she felt her pulse throb in her neck.

"They're not just arbitrary, Peeta; they're real," she ground out, a flush heating up her face. "And I have to deal with them every day. I have to deal with people judging me, looking down on me. So it doesn't matter what you care about because this affects _me_. I can't be your friend anymore."

His face fell then, the corners of his mouth and his eyes creasing with sadness. He dropped his head, and her heart constricted painfully. But when he glanced back up, he smiled ruefully. "Okay. I'm sorry. I will respect your wishes," he said, his voice thick. "It was nice while it lasted, but I guess I knew it couldn't last forever. Take care of yourself, Katniss."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked away, and she tried not to stare after him. She looked down, blinking against the tears. What was wrong with her? She felt horrible, the anger over the situation giving way to a new anguish. She bit down on her lip, hard, but her mind was racing.

It wasn't fair. Why should anyone besides her get to decide who she could or couldn't spend time with? She didn't have a friend in this whole damn district, and she was supposed to drive away the only person who had ever really gave a damn enough to befriend her, just because the prejudiced assholes of this town thought it was improper?

Her head flew up, and she looked in the direction he'd left. Glancing at Greasy Sae to her right, she made up her mind. "Hey, Sae, can you keep an eye on my booth for a minute? I gotta get something from my house." Sae nodded, and Katniss darted around her booth, walking briskly out of the Hob. She spotted Peeta not too far up ahead, ambling toward town, and she jogged to catch up to him.

"Peeta, wait!" she called to him quietly, and he stopped, turning around with an expression of surprise, but his face slipped into one of dejection when he looked at her. Slowing to a stop a couple of feet away from him, she glanced around nervously. "It's not that I don't want to be friends with you. It's just...I can't deal with people gossiping about me, spreading rumors and telling Gale things that aren't—true."

He nodded sadly but didn't speak. She took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "I—I do want to be your friend. I do. It's nice to have someone to talk to..." she trailed off, and he looked at her wistfully. "I guess, I just don't really have friends. Close ones, anyway. I'm handling this all wrong, I guess." She tugged fretfully on her braid, and he smiled at her finally, a small one. "Maybe...maybe we can still be friends. You just can't come around the Hob anymore."

Peeta raised an eyebrow. "So...friends who don't see each other, then?" His tone was teasing, and she was glad his eyes had lost that sad look. She smiled bashfully, trying to fight it, and she looked away from him, squinting into the distance at the woods.

"There's a meadow, near the edge of the woods, past the Seam," she said quietly. "If you want to talk sometime, maybe...we can meet there." He was quiet, and when she finally glanced at him, his face was slack with disbelief. She started to backtrack. "It was a stupid idea, never mind—"

"No!" he interrupted. "No. I mean...I just, I've never been there before. I think that would be...nice. I would like that." He smiled at her, a shy smile, and her heart rate spiked. This was wrong; she should tell him she changed her mind.

But she smiled at him instead.

 

They met in the meadow on Wednesday. She returned from a hunting trip in the woods to find him lying near a patch of dandelions, and she watched him silently for a moment. His eyes were closed, his face lifted toward the sun. She was almost sorry to disturb him. Approaching quietly, she stood over him and nudged his arm with the toe of her boot. He jumped, his eyes flying open, but he smiled as he squinted at her.

"I didn't even hear you," he said, sitting up.

"I wouldn't be a very good hunter if you did," she retorted, and he laughed. She sat down cross-legged beside him, setting her bag down. "I can't stay too long because I've got to trade this game before it goes bad."

Peeta nodded, picking at the blades of grass near his knee. They were quiet for a moment until he spoke up, "This is really nice out here. I think I'll bring some parchment next time to draw." She hummed a noncommittal sound, propping her elbow up on her knee and resting her chin in her palm.

"I'm sure that would be nice. The apple tree you drew was incredibly realistic," she finally said, hesitant, and he turned his eyes on her.

"Thanks," he said, his voice soft. "Spent a lot of time looking at that damn tree, I guess." She looked away then, swallowing her shame at the 20-year-old memory, and she wondered if his fascination with that tree had anything to do with her.

Digging through her game bag, she pulled out a smaller pouch and opened it to reveal some strawberries she had picked. "Would you like some?" she offered, setting the pouch down on the ground next to him. He nodded, snatching one up and biting into it.

"Thank you," he said around the strawberry, his eyes lighting up. "These are good." Katniss smiled, picking one up for herself. Chewing thoughtfully, Peeta dropped the stem of the strawberry to the ground and sucked the juices off his fingers. She squirmed as she watched him. "We—well, not me anymore—but at the bakery, they've got a really good strawberry shortcake. You should try it sometime." She bit into her strawberry, her fingers catching some of the juices that dribbled down her chin. "Or...I could make it for you," he suggested, and she looked at him sharply.

"Oh, no, I couldn't let you do that—"

"So, you can share your food with me, but I can't?" he asked wryly, then he grinned. "Sorry. I'm doing it anyway, so you're just gonna have to deal. That's what friends do."

She rolled her eyes, swallowing another bite of strawberry. "Fine." They lapsed into a brief silence while they ate more of the berries until she spoke up again, "Reaping's this Sunday." His gaze shifted to her face, then off into the distance. It was the first reaping in 20 years where she didn't have to worry about someone being chosen, whether it was herself or someone she cared about. Last year had been Posy's last reaping. Until her niece, Aster, hit reaping age, she had a brief respite from the dread and stress of the games.

"Yeah," Peeta said darkly, and she was reminded that he had nephews to worry about, nephews who were reaping age.

"Sorry..." she offered weakly, and he just shook his head.

"Not your fault." He stared at the ground for a moment, silent. "It's not really my nephews I worry about, if I'm being honest. I know the odds favor them." He looked up at her. "It's my students. I teach a lot of kids from town and the Seam. I know them pretty well. It's tough, worrying about them." He swallowed, his eyes a stormy blue. "A few of them...I've known a few of the ones who've been chosen, over the years. They don't ever come back."

Her breath hitched slightly. "I..." She didn't know what to say. She never considered how it might be for him as a teacher, watching his students get shipped off to die. Shaking her head, she looked away. "I just don't get it," she said simply, her mouth curving into a frown.

"What?"

"I just—I don't even understand how people can want kids. It was horrible enough worrying about my sister. I know it's going to be horrible when it's Aster's time. And, I mean, I can only imagine how it feels when it's actually people you know, people you care about, who are chosen. I just don't get it. I just—sometimes I feel like the only person in this district who doesn't suddenly and completely forget what that mind-numbing terror feels like every damn year when it's time for the reaping."

He laughed, a dark, biting sound, and she startled, gawking at him. "You're probably right," he mused, leaning back on his hands. "Sometimes, I think, maybe it was a very cruel blessing that I could never have kids of my own."

She cringed at how callous she had probably sounded to him. "Sorry, I didn't mean...sorry."

He shrugged. "I meant it. I've had a lot of time to think about it. Maybe I should be grateful. I don't know." He paused, looking at her. "Every year around this time, I wonder, who's it going to be? Will it be someone I know? Because most of the time, it is. I know most of these kids at least casually, even if I never taught them directly. Every year I watch, suffering in a silent kind of misery because I know these kids aren't coming home. I'll never see them around school, in my classroom, on the wrestling team." His voice was raw, and the sound tugged at her heart. "There was one kid one year, Doran. He was on the team. He was...he was a really good kid." Katniss remembered him; he was also from the Seam. "I thought, maybe he could win. He was strong. Really smart. But...he was gutted in the bloodbath by a Career."

Katniss stared at his profile. She could see the tears shining in his eyes, and she didn't know what to say. Cautiously, she inched her hand closer to his, the one that rested in the grass close to her, until her fingers nudged his. She wrapped her hand around two of his fingers, squeezing in what she hoped was a comforting gesture, and he looked at her, his mouth parting in surprise. His gaze dropped down to their hands, and she was about to retract hers when he squeezed back. He smiled at her then, and her heart fluttered.

They sat there for a little while longer until Katniss begrudgingly left to do her trading for the day. Peeta decided to stay in the meadow for a bit, and she waved goodbye with a promise to meet him there next week.

 

When she wandered into the meadow a week later, Peeta was already there, sketching in a parchment pad. She snuck up behind him to look over his shoulder. He was drawing the woods and the fence that separated it from the meadow.

"That is really good," she commented, making him jump, and she tried not to laugh.

He chuckled, shooting her an exasperated look as she sat down next to him. "One of these days, I'm not going to startle when you approach."

"Good luck with that," she said with mock sincerity, smiling when he laughed again. He set his pad aside and showed her a basket he had brought with him.

"For you," he said, and she took the basket from him warily. "It's probably a little melted now, though. Sorry." Curious, she peered inside. A strawberry shortcake wrapped in plastic was nestled inside on a plate. She looked at him sternly.

"You didn't."

"I did."

She sighed. "Peeta—"

"Nope, I don't wanna hear it. You're gonna eat it, and you're gonna like it," he asserted, picking up his pad to start drawing again.

She scoffed. "And what if I don't like it?"

He shrugged. "Impossible. The Mellarks make the best damn strawberry shortcake in the entire district."

"No one else makes strawberry shortcake in this district."

"Exactly." He winked at her then ducked his head back to his drawing, the stick of charcoal scratching across the parchment. Sighing, Katniss unwrapped the shortcake and picked up a fork he had included.

"What about you? Are you going to eat?" she asked, but he shook his head.

"I ate enough while I was making it for you. I'm stuffed. That's all for you."

Carefully, she scooped up some of the shortcake with her fork, making sure to get a large bite of strawberries and whipped cream, and she shoveled it into her mouth. Chewing slowly, she moaned in the back of her throat, and she blushed when she realized he was watching her. She swallowed. "You should include cheese buns and strawberry cupcakes in that friendship contract of yours."

He chuckled. "I thought you might appreciate it." She scarfed down the rest of the shortcake, and he drew in silence. When she was finished, she pushed the basket aside and stretched out in the grass beside him. He glanced at her. "No trading today?"

"I got it done earlier," she said, looking up at him. He turned his eyes back to his paper, but a smile played at the corner of his lips. She watched him as he drew. After a few minutes of silence, she asked him, "Did you know either of the tributes chosen?"

His hand stilled, his face falling, and he glanced at her with a nod. "Siobhan was in my class a couple years ago," he said solemnly. She didn't know what to say, so she chewed on her lip.

"Peeta," she said a moment later, and he hummed a response. "Did you and—Analise ever...think about adopting from the community home?" At his look, she rushed to add, "You don't have to answer that if you don't want..."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I wanted to. But she...didn't. You have to understand that—she felt— _feels_ —broken, in a way. She told me she didn't want a child that wasn't her own, _our_ own. It makes her angry, I guess. And the kids in the home, she..." He faltered, looking at her sadly. "Well, she thinks they're broken, too. And she doesn't want a reminder of her own brokenness."

Narrowing her eyes, Katniss looked away to glare at the sky. She understood what he hadn't said: Analise thought those kids were broken because they were from the Seam. Because Seam children were the ones who were most often left homeless and parentless.

"You didn't want kids?" he asked quietly, and she shook her head, dreading this conversation. But she was the one who had initiated it. "And Gale...?"

"He does," she said sullenly. "He's not too happy with me. But he knew...he knew before we married. Guess he just thought I'd change my mind..." Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat, closing her eyes against the glare of the sun.

Peeta was quiet for a while, and she heard the scratching of his charcoal again. Finally, he muttered, "I guess it's funny how things work out." She didn't know if "funny" was the right word, but she grunted petulantly. "Here, I drew you something."

She opened her eyes and looked at him in surprise. "Oh?" She sat up as he tore the parchment out of his pad and handed it to her. Her eyebrows shot up when she realized he had sketched her, lying in the grass, her face turned toward the sky, her braid coiled on the ground. Her jaw dropped, and she looked up at him, a slight flushing warming her face. "Oh," she squeaked. "It's really good, Peeta, but...what am I going to do with a picture of myself?"

He grinned at her then, taking the paper from her. "Okay, fine. I'll just keep it for myself." His eyes glinted mischievously, and the flush ignited her entire body. Ripping out another sheet of paper, he gave that to her. It was the picture of the woods he had been working on earlier. "You can have this instead."

She smiled, gingerly skimming her fingers over the image, careful not to smudge the charcoal. "I...thank you." She looked up at him, worry creasing her forehead. "You keep giving me things, and I haven't really given you anything in return..."

With a shrug, he gathered his things and stood up. "So, give me something next week if you want. But I don't expect anything. Your company is enough." Scooping the basket up, he smiled down at her. "I gotta head back. See you next Wednesday?" She nodded, and he tipped his head in parting before turning away. Her eyes lingered in his direction until she couldn't see his form anymore, and one thought crossed her mind: What was he going to do with that picture of her?

 

The first words out of her mouth when she saw him next were an apology. Siobhan had died in the arena on the second day. Neither District 12 tribute had lasted long, no thanks to their drunken mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. She wondered if he had even sobered up long enough to help them in the games, but she guessed—knew—that answer to be no.

Peeta shrugged halfheartedly, his eyes troubled. He had brought his sketch pad with him, but he just sat it aside, choosing instead to lie in the meadow on his back and stare at the passing clouds above.

"Sometimes, I think to myself, eventually I'm going to stop feeling anything during these games. By now, I should be used to it, you know? I should be numb to it. It has to stop hurting at some point, right?" he asked, pain bracketing his face. She didn't know how to answer that. Was she numb to it yet? She certainly hadn't been when Prim was at risk. "But then I think...the day that happens, the day it no longer hurts, I'd be no different than those in the Capitol. That's the day I'd be truly lost."

She nodded, and they sat in silence, but it was comfortable this time. After a while, he began to describe the shapes and images he saw in the clouds overhead, and she just listened to him. His voice was soothing, a gravelly rumble in his chest she could feel in her own as he spoke. Pulling up the dandelions that surrounded her, she tied the stems together until she had a long strand of flowers. Then she knotted the ends together to create a loop.

"Here," she said, holding it out to him. He squinted at her.

"What is it?"

"It's a crown. I made it for you," she said, feeling a little silly, but he sat up with a smile and took it from her. "You said last week to give you something, so...now you have a crown. My dad used to make them for me," she added, compelled to explain, and she picked at her shoelace.

"Thank you." There was a note of awe in his voice when he spoke. He placed it atop his blonde curls, and the grin he shot her was dazzling. "How do I look?"

Katniss smiled at him. "Like a king," she quipped, and his grin twisted into a lopsided smirk. He grunted, scratching at his beard.

"King of the meadow, maybe," he remarked, bitter amusement lacing his voice. "Not much competition out here for the title, though, so..."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You don't think I could take you for the crown?" she teased, but the look he shot her was more devastating than humorous.

"Oh, I think you could absolutely destroy me, Katniss," he uttered, and she felt her heart stop. In that moment, she knew; she finally understood just how dangerous of a game they were playing, the two of them.

 

Peeta wasn't in the meadow the next week when she arrived. Katniss frowned as she scanned the area; the clouds were thick and gray overhead, a slight breeze whipping loose strands of her hair around her face. She decided to sit down and wait. And wait. She was about to get up and leave when she spotted him walking toward her. She nearly sighed in relief, unsettled by how upset she had been in his absence. As he got closer, she saw how troubled his face was. She narrowed her eyes as he plopped down next to her, but he didn't say anything yet.

"I thought maybe you weren't coming," she said hesitantly. He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest.

"I almost didn't," he said, and she just stared at him in confusion. Smiling sadly, he finally looked up at her, and she noticed the cut on his bottom lip; the area was red and swollen, split down the middle in a scabbed-over line. Her eyes widened.

"What happened to your mouth?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"It's nothing."

She narrowed her eyes again. "Did someone...hit you?" Was it his mother? That woman's abuse was well-known around the district, but her children were older now, moved out. She couldn't still be hitting them, could she?

Peeta ran a hand through his mussed curls, his face darkening. "It's not a big deal," he mumbled, and she felt rage swelling in her chest.

"Peeta, tell me what happened," she demanded, as if she had any right to demand things of him. Finally, he sighed again, and reached into his pocket, throwing an object down on the ground between them. Her eyes dropped to it, and her mouth parted in surprise. It was a condom. The condom he had bought from her weeks ago, to be exact. Alarmed, she glanced back up at him.

"Lissy found it," he said sourly, and her face paled. "Accused me of having an affair. She wouldn't listen to me..."

"And she—and she _hit_ you?" she asked incredulously.

Peeta looked away, pocketing the condom. "She gets angry sometimes," he said after a beat. "She's not a bad person. It's just...things haven't been easy for her the last few years. I try to be understanding; I try to hold my tongue. But...sometimes I can't take it. And she snaps." He picked at some blades of grass between his legs, and she stared at him, speechless. "I told her that obviously I wasn't fucking someone else since the condom hasn't been used. She didn't care too much for my sarcasm," he said drolly.

Her stomach twisted. "Did you—did you tell her...about—about me?" she whispered fearfully, and he looked at her, his eyes narrowed.

"No. I wouldn't do that. You told me you didn't want anyone to know." He shrugged as if it were that simple. She wondered how his wife would react if she knew he was meeting up with a woman from the Seam every week. Nervously, Katniss looked away, not sure what to say. This was her fault. Peeta was always taking blows to save her, to protect her. First, his mother, and now, his wife. Why did he keep doing it? When she never gave him anything in return, not even her appreciation?

She found herself leaning closer to him then, her arm reaching for him. He froze when her fingertips grazed his swollen lip, his eyes wide. Her heart was in her throat as her face hovered just inches from his, and then she pressed her lips to the tender cut. She both heard and felt him inhale sharply; she started to pull away, but his hand gripped her elbow, holding her in place. Their hot breaths mingled, warming her lips, and her eyes locked on his blue ones; they were darker than usual, his pupils thick, nearly swallowing the entire iris. Her blood thundered in her ears, and she was sure he could hear it.

They were in something of a standoff, neither knowing whether to pull away or push forward. Finally, Peeta broke the stalemate.

"Don't stop," he pleaded, his voice strangled, and before she could even think, she melded her mouth to his lip, the tip of her tongue laving the cut. He made a choked sound in the back of his throat, his fingers tightening around her elbow, and the noise emboldened her. Cupping his jaw with her hand, she sucked his lip into her mouth. She tasted something metallic, and her tongue swiped over his reopened cut, tasting more of his blood. She sucked greedily on his lip, wondering if she was hurting him, wondering why she couldn't stop.

He groaned, deep in his chest, and then his tongue was touching hers, sliding into her mouth. She gasped in shock, but he pulled her closer so that she was practically in his lap. Curling her fingers into his hair, she opened her mouth wider to his, and their tongues clashed eagerly.

At that moment, a drop of water hit her forehead, her nose, her cheek. But she didn't notice until it was raining steadily, and she blinked uncomprehendingly, jerking away from him. They stared at each other, both breathing heavily as the rain fell harder around them, hitting the grass in a loud, steady rhythm. The blood on his lip trickled down his chin in a pink, meandering line. Without much thought, she jumped up and pulled him to his feet with her. Then, she was running, back to the Seam, back to her house. She could hear his feet pounding the dirt behind her, just over the deafening sound of the rain beating the ground as they ran to escape it.

On her doorstep, she fumbled with the front door, her hands shaking, and she shoved it open. Stumbling inside, she whirled around, but Peeta hesitated on the doorstep. Seized with fear, she yanked him inside, praying no one saw him, saw them. She slammed the door shut behind him, and then they just stared at each other, their chests heaving from their sprint to her house. She knew his eyes mirrored her own, wide with trepidation and doubt and want. So much want.

"Katniss—" he started, his voice quivering, but she didn't want him to talk. She was afraid that if he talked, the spell would be broken, and she'd have to think about what they were doing. She didn't want to think; she just wanted to _do_.

So she silenced him with her mouth, her tongue finding his again. He cradled her face in his hands, and she guided him into the living room backwards. She hit the couch and grunted, but he swallowed the sound, pinning her body between his and the couch. His hardness pressed into her stomach, startling her, and she pushed him away. Stumbling backward, he gawked at her, but when he noticed her staring at his groin, he flushed in embarrassment. "I—I...I'm sor—"

But she was tugging his shirt upward before he could finish, and then her fingers floundered with the buttons on her shirt. Getting the hint, Peeta peeled his wet shirt off the rest of the way and dropped it to the ground. Her hands stilled, her eyes riveted to the broad expanse of his chest and his shoulders, the tautness of his stomach. Heat spiraled through her body, spiking between her thighs. She wanted him. Oh, God, she wanted him.

Peeta moved in front of her, his fingers quickly unfastening the rest of her buttons, and when he pushed the shirt down her arms, his mouth covered hers again. She sucked on his tongue hungrily, and he pressed his hardness into her. She bucked her hips against his, eliciting groans from both of them, and then he lifted her into his arms, carrying her around the couch where he lowered her to the cushions. He leaned back, and she eagerly unbuttoned her pants, shimmying out of them. He helped her, yanking her boots off along with her pants. Only her underwear remained, and he stared at her, something unreadable on his face. She trembled, the doubt from before surging stronger, but she was desperate to ignore it, to escape it.

"Peeta," she whimpered, sitting up on her elbows. "Don't—don't stop." Roused by her plea, he rose to his feet and undid his own pants. She scrambled to remove her bra and panties, and when she looked at him again, her stomach bottomed out. His cock strained upward, impossibly hard, protruding from a patch of dark blonde curls. Slick with desire, she lay back on the cushions, her legs spread in invitation. His eyes raked the length of her body, lingering on the glistening juncture of her thighs; his stare only made her ache more.

"Katniss..." he murmured hoarsely, swallowing thickly. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful. I..."

She reached for him, her body thrumming with need and desperation. "Now, Peeta. Now, now, _now_ ," she begged, wanting to feel the weight of his body on top of hers, just as she had thought about, night after night. He settled between her legs, capturing her lips and her tongue in a heady kiss, and she slid her hands through his damp hair. Her hips cradled his, but when she felt his cock slide through her dark curls, she gasped, pushing on his shoulders. "Condom," she managed to get out, and he snatched up his pants from the floor, digging the condom out and freeing it from its pouch. The irony of the moment was not lost on Katniss, but she pushed the thought away, impatiently helping him roll it down over his cock. He groaned at her touch. His flesh was hot, even through the condom, and he was heavy and thick in her hand.

She pulled him back to her center, lifting her pelvis to his, and when the tip of his cock slid between her folds, he held her hips down to push into her. She moaned loudly, drowning out the sound of his own relief. She felt full, stretched wide; it was almost painful. She expected him to keep moving, but he stopped once the full length of his cock was buried inside her. She squirmed anxiously, but he kissed her mouth, her neck, her breasts, sucking off the lingering droplets of rain. His tongue teased her pebbled nipple, and she arched against him. When his hand slipped between her thighs, his fingers brushing her swollen clit, she gasped, clenching him inside her reflexively.

"Fuck," he hissed, but his fingers bore down harder, drawing circles, and she clawed at his back. "There?" he asked, his teeth scraping her nipple. She nodded frantically. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes!" she gasped, rocking her hips in time with his fingers in what little space she had to move. His large body trapped her to the couch, and he sucked her nipple into his mouth, humming his approval of the way her body gripped his cock. His fingers moved deftly between her thighs, the pleasure coiling tight inside her.

"I'm—I—" Words escaped her, and when his teeth tugged on her nipple, she came with a breathless shout. He groaned as she trembled underneath him, pulsing around him. And then he was moving, pulling his cock out just to push it back in. She whimpered in her bliss, opening her legs wider for him. His thrusts were hard, relentless, his hips driving hers into the cushion, and when his fingers began moving between her thighs again, she gasped in surprise, still sensitive from her first orgasm. But the pain was exquisite, and her hands simultaneously pushed and pulled at his chest, unsure what she wanted from him.

He kissed her, swallowing her pleading sounds. "It's okay, it's okay," he whispered into her mouth, his fingers rubbing her clit with unforgiving mercy. She moaned then, a whining mewl, and soon her hips jerked against his wildly, desperate for the relief he promised her. "God, this is—fuck, this is so _good_. So—so good, so much better than I've imagined," he whimpered in her ear, and she wanted to tell him the same, but her coherent thought was long gone by that point. With one artful stroke of his fingers, she exploded again, crying into his neck. Peeta grunted, thrusting erratically until his hips strained against hers. He moaned her name into her shoulder, and she felt him throbbing inside her, her own body still quivering with pleasure. It took a while for her to stop shaking, the only sound in the room their labored breathing.

But as the ecstasy subsided, the doubt filled its place. The full weight of what they had done finally settled on her. Her stomach twisted with guilt, and she pushed on his shoulders. "You—you have to go," she stuttered, still dazed from her orgasms, but the horror was pushing through the haze then.

He sat up, his somewhat softened cock sliding out of her, and she tried not to think about how empty she felt. He looked stunned, and she scrambled to pull her underwear on. "We shouldn't have...oh, _God_ , we shouldn't have done that," she whimpered, rushing around the couch to grab her shirt and shrug it on. She distractedly rebuttoned it, missing a few in her haste.

"Katniss."

When she glanced at him, he had already put his boxers and shirt on, but he held his pants in one hand and the used condom in the other. "What—what do you want me to do with this?" he asked dumbly, and she gaped at him.

"I don't...I don't know...Rinse it out and take it with you. You can't leave that here!" she cried, borderline hysterical, and he struggled to put his pants on with one hand. Once he had pulled them up over his hips and slipped his shoes on, he crossed into the kitchen to the sink. She turned away while he washed the condom, trying not to hyperventilate. She looked back at him as he shuffled toward her, fastening his pants. His hair was disheveled, his cheeks flushed a rosy color, but his blue eyes reflected her terror. "Katniss—"

"This was a mistake. This was a—this was a _huge_ fucking mistake, Peeta," she said, her voice catching. She stepped back as he moved closer, and he halted. "You're married, and I'm married, and...oh, my God." He looked stricken at her words, his hands falling to his sides. "You have to go. You have to go. _Now_."

Wordlessly, he started for the front door, but she stopped him, panicked. "The back door! You can't leave through the front!" she hissed, and he swiveled back around. She pointed toward the back door, her hand trembling, and he brushed past her, looking as dazed as she felt. He stopped, however, turning to face her.

"I—I'm sorry, Katniss. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry..." he muttered, his words dying out. She just buried her face in her hands, too scared to look at him. And then he was gone, the back door shutting quietly behind him. Breathing deeply, she gathered the rest of her wet clothes and carried them to the bedroom, but she pulled up short when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was knotted, sticking out in odd places, pulled from its braid. As she tried to smooth it down, she gasped, peering closer at the mirror. There were streaks of blood smeared on her neck, her chest, her chin. From his lip. Frantically, she spit into her hand and tried to rub it off, her hysteria rising.

Bath. She needed to take a bath. She filled up their tub quickly, discarding her shirt and her underwear before sliding down into the water, not even caring about the tepid temperature. Lathering the washcloth, she scrubbed herself furiously, as if she could wash herself of what she'd done. When her hand slipped between her thighs to clean herself, catching on the tender flesh there, she whimpered, and a hoarse cry escaped her throat.

Soon, she was sobbing into her hands, overcome with shame. She sank farther into the water while she cried, and there she stayed for hours, until the water grew cold, until her throat was raw.

What had she done?

What had she _done_?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit sexual content, and probably a couple other trigger warnings, depending on your level of sensitivity.

Katniss thought she was going to burst at the seams every time Gale looked at her.

Did he know? Could he tell? Was her misdeed, her transgression, written all over her face as she felt it was? Surely, he had to sense something was wrong. She jumped every time he spoke, anticipating that whenever he opened his mouth, he was going to say it: "You fucked Peeta Mellark."

But he didn't. If he noticed she was acting weird, he didn't say anything. After he'd came home from his shift in the mines that evening—after she had dumped her filthy bathwater out and readjusted the couch cushions, after she had changed into completely different clothes and rebraided her hair seven times, after she had pressed a cold compress to her eyes to reduce the puffiness from her tears—he had grumbled something about being exhausted from the day's work. He was always tired; she knew the work was back-breaking, but neither of them really liked to talk about the mines, so he never expanded on the conversation. So they ate their dinner in relative silence, and for once, she was glad Gale didn't inquire about her day. He crashed after dinner and a shower, his exhaustion taking him to their bedroom for an early night.

Katniss didn't go to bed for a while; she sat on the tiny stoop outside the back door and stared at the cluster of trees behind their house. The night air was muggy, thick with moisture from the afternoon rain. It didn't remind her of what she had done earlier with Peeta; the truth was, she didn't need to be reminded. She hadn't stopped thinking about it.

What was wrong with her? What had she been thinking? That was the problem, she surmised; she _hadn't_ been thinking. She deliberately chose not to think. But she was making up for that lapse in judgment now; her mind raced with questions and doubts and self-contempt.

She was a horrible person. She was horrible; she was selfish and distrustful and manipulative. She hated herself. How could she do that to Gale? She'd already bound him to a fruitless, querulous marriage with her, and she couldn't even afford him the decency of remaining faithful. And Analise...Katniss felt her guilt sink like a lead ball to the pit of her stomach. She didn't even know Analise, a woman already broken by her inability to conceive—and here she was, selfishly willing to break another woman's marriage by one thoughtless action.

Burying her face in her hands, Katniss dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. But she didn't cry; there were no tears forthcoming, no miniscule amount of relief to be had from the suffocating shame she felt. She'd used it all up earlier in the bath, and now she had to face the cold, hard truth of what she'd done.

She couldn't tell Gale; she couldn't. He would be devastated. No matter how much they fought, how much he might resent her for her unrelenting resistance to children, he would be irreparably damaged by this betrayal, she was sure of it. It would be worse to tell him, she reasoned. So, why cause Gale any more anguish than necessary?

It wasn't going to happen again; she was going to cut Peeta out of her life for good. It was the only option. She would go back to her lonely, friendless life because it was what she deserved. Peeta would be just fine without her. She couldn't even begin to decipher what he was thinking and feeling about their ill-advised tryst, but he had plenty of friends, plenty of activities and obligations to fill his thoughts and time; forgetting about the Seam woman who'd seduced him into cheating on his wife shouldn't be too hard for him to do.

Would he tell his wife, though? Would he tell her what happened? Fresh terror settled like ice over her heart at the thought, and she hugged her knees to her chest tightly. He was a decent person; he might not be able to live with the guilt the way she could, was prepared to do. If Analise knew, would it eventually get back to Gale? It would, Katniss realized, because everyone would know. Everyone in this town knew everything; no one was allowed to wallow in their own fucking misery and self-hate in peace. God _damn_ this stupid town. God damn it, and god damn _her_ for being such a fool.

She was a stupid, stupid, _stupid_ woman.

 

Katniss didn't sleep much over the next few days. Every night, when Gale came home from his shift, she was sure that was it; she was sure he was going to confront her about sleeping with Peeta. The accusation never came, however. It would have been funny, really, because before, when he'd suspected she was having sex with him, he had been wrong, but now that she'd done it, he didn't seem to suspect a thing. It would have been funny, if she weren't making herself physically sick from all her anxiety.

She treaded carefully around town, around the Hob, wondering if anyone else knew, wondering if each day was going to be the day Analise tracked her down to shame her in front of the whole district for fucking her husband.

But no one paid her any mind; no one even really looked her way as she went about her business. She was too wound up, though. Trying to work in the Hob as if nothing had happened was nearly impossible—forget trying to do any of her regular trading around town. On Wednesday, her usual hunting day, she refused to get out of bed that morning. Instead, she'd told Gale she was sick, which wasn't hard to feign as her stomach had been knotted painfully for the past week, and she buried further under the covers, prepared to sleep the day away. She didn't want to hunt because she didn't want to have to pass through the meadow; she couldn't risk running into Peeta.

Wednesday was their day. He wouldn't show up, though. Right?

She couldn't think about it.

Another week went by, and Katniss knew she needed to hunt again. She couldn't hide forever. She slinked out into the woods, before the sun had even made an appearance. But once she'd retrieved her bow from its log, her motivation escaped her. Instead, she sat down on the log and just enjoyed the forest. The trees rose high above her, obscuring the dusky sky, as if the woods were going to swallow her up. She felt safe. She felt unjudged. She felt...redeemed. This was where she belonged.

She didn't want to leave. Nothing good awaited her back in District 12. So she started to walk. And she walked until she'd found the one place that could remind her of the person she used to be, when things were less complicated, when she was actually happy: her cabin in the woods, the lake where her father had taught her how to swim.

She really, really missed him today.

Approaching the lake, she carefully removed her clothes and folded them on the ground. Naked, she walked out into the water, submerging her head and resurfacing farther out in the lake. She swam for a while until she was exhausted, then she crawled onto a large rock to sunbathe for hours, bare to the world. Birds and squirrels chirped in the trees that surrounded the lake as if they were singing to her, and she almost, _almost_ forgot about her troubles.

But then she got hungry, and she knew she needed to head home. The berries she'd collected on the way to the lake had done little to satiate her hunger. Regretfully, she redressed and began her hike back to the Seam. She shot down a couple squirrels on her way and stuffed them in her bag. As she climbed through the gap in the fence, she threw her bag over her shoulder—and nearly screamed when she saw Peeta standing before her.

He held up his hands as if placating a terrified prey. And she knew she must look like one.

"Wait. _Wait_. Please. Just wait," he begged as if she were about to run. Perhaps if he weren't blocking her route home, she would. She could always escape back into the woods, she supposed, but she was frozen to her spot, utterly horror-struck by his appearance in the meadow.

"What are you...what are you doing here?" she asked when speech returned to her.

He stared at her quietly for a moment. He looked nearly as terrible as she did—his skin was paler than usual, his face was lined with exhaustion and worry, and his normally bright eyes were dull, punctuated by the dark circles under them. But even fatigue couldn't diminish his handsomeness, and she wasn't sure if the swoop in her stomach was fear or longing.

"It's Wednesday," he said simply, his voice strained. Then he looked away, running a hand through his hair. When he looked back at her, he gave her such a raw look that she felt herself actually tremble. "I thought you might be in the woods, so...I waited."

She blinked. She'd been out for hours. It had to be in the middle of the afternoon by now. "How long...how long have you been waiting?"

He swallowed, his eyes shifting around nervously. "A while, I guess. Forever, if I needed to," he said, stepping closer, but his movements were cautious. She didn't know if she wanted to take a step back—or take a step toward him. So she stayed still, her chest constricting with a quickened breath.

"Peeta—"

"Wait," he interrupted her, holding his hands up again. "Just...I'm sorry. I am so unbelievably sorry for what I did. I'm sorry. I don't know if there are enough words in the world to accurately convey how sorry I am, but I just...I needed to apologize to you."

Her eyes widened. "Why are you apologizing to _me_? I'm the one—I'm the one who...who started it. I kissed you, and..." She had wanted him. She had wanted him to do what he'd done; she had wanted to do what she'd done. If anything, she should apologize to him. He'd just been hit by his wife, who'd accused him of having an affair, and then she had sex with him. Jesus, what was wrong with her?

But he shook his head. "I think...I think I've been pushing it, pushing you. I-I think about you. I've _been_ thinking about you—I'm sorry. I've tried not to, but...I guess I haven't really tried hard enough," he rambled, his eyes focusing on the fence behind her. "I wanted you, and I think I projected that onto you, and, just...I escalated things between us, and they got out of hand."

Her eyes were riveted to him, only one part of his speech reverberating in her mind: _I wanted you_. She understood, of course, that in the moment, he had wanted her, but the way he said it, he made it sound like it was something beyond just that day, that singular action. "You wanted me?" she repeated dumbly. He stared at her.

"Yes."

She thought about what Gale had said a while ago, about Peeta staring at her in school. Slowly, she set her game bag on the ground. "How...long have you wanted me?"

He blinked rapidly, his lips parting in disbelief. "How _long_? I—a long time, Katniss."

Tugging the end of her braid, she chewed on her lip. "Since...we were teenagers?" she asked.

Something akin to terror flashed in his eyes. "Longer, probably," he whispered. Her heart was racing, and her palms started to sweat.

"Is that why you stared at me in school?" He nodded cautiously. "And not because of the—bread?" she asked, timid.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "The bread...I watched you because I wanted to make sure you were okay. But I watched you before, and I watched you after. Because I liked you."

Her breath hitched. "Because you liked me," she repeated, and he pursed his lips. " _Like_ me?" she rephrased, a questioning lilt to her voice, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

"Yes," he finally answered after a beat, his voice barely above a whisper, and he dropped his eyes to look at the ground. His cheeks were red; her own face felt like it was on fire. She felt like a teenager all over again. A confusing rush of embarrassment and giddiness and anger swelled inside her.

"Peeta." Her voice was strangled as she tried to choke down all her emotions. "Why didn't you ever— _tell_ me? Why didn't you ever just _say_ something to me?"

He huffed, running his hands through his hair again. "I don't know! I don't know, okay? I was...I was scared, I guess. I was a coward. What could I even talk to you about?" He laughed then, a strange, nervous bark of laughter. "You were so...you were so much _more_ , and how could I compare? And then I thought you were with Gale, and then you _were_ with Gale, and what did it matter at that point? What could I do at that point, Katniss?"

"You could have talked to me! Anything, even a hello would have gone a long way to—to—"

"Talk to you? I didn't even _register_ to you!"

She pulled up short, blinking furiously. "Is that what you think? That I didn't notice you?" she asked, and he gave her an exasperated look. "I noticed you. A lot."

He swallowed, his eyes wide with alarm. "You...But you—you were with Gale. And I respected that. I moved on—I tried to move on. I couldn't—I didn't want to spend the rest of my life pining after you. You seemed...you seemed happy. And you married Gale. You—"

"I was waiting for you!" she yelled, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could cram them back in. His mouth dropped open, his entire face registering shock, and she clamped her hands over her own mouth in horror.

They were silent for a tense moment until Peeta broke it. "You were...you were—"

But she was already shaking her head, moving to dart around him, to run from her confession. He moved faster than her, however, his body colliding with hers as he intercepted her escape route; she ricocheted off his chest, but his hands shot up to lock around her arms, holding her in place. "Wait! Wait! Please, don't run, _please_!" he cried, and she struggled in his grasp, but he just pulled her closer, tighter. "Just stop, okay? Just—just wait a minute, please."

She covered her whole face with her hands, trying to block him out, trying to block out what she had said, but when her body stilled, he wrapped his arms around her. Her head rested against his chest. His breathing was ragged, and she could feel his heart under her hands. It synced with the fast beat of her own heart. "Katniss...what do you mean, you were waiting for me?"

She hadn't realized it until she'd said it. How was she supposed to explain it to him? She didn't understand it herself. She had been close to understanding it years ago, the day she'd found out Peeta was getting married, but it had seemed like an exercise in futility by that point, to even think about it, to consider the possibility that she had feelings for Peeta. How could she have feelings for him when they had never interacted beyond a contemptible exchange of food? It was an absurd notion, so she had quashed the feelings and threw herself into a marriage with Gale because—because it was expected of her. She was supposed to be with a man from the Seam, not the boy with the bread, not a man from the Merchant class. It had been an impulsive decision, one she'd made in a moment of weakness, so she wouldn't have to face the fact that she'd been foolishly longing for a man she couldn't have.

Shaking her head, she inhaled shakily. His familiar scent filled her nose, making her lightheaded. "What does it matter, Peeta?"

"It matters, damn it," he said harshly, his mouth moving against the top of her head. His nose was buried in her hair, and she heard him inhale, his chest expanding under her hands. "It matters...please..."

His proximity, his scent, his warmth—it was all too much, disarming her. Memories of their desperate coupling assaulted her mind, how he felt in her hand, inside her, moving above her, his weight pinning her down, his mouth worshipping her breasts, his fingers making her beg. Her body betrayed her, flushing with want, and she squeezed her eyes shut, curling her fingers into his shirt. "I don't...I don't know," she said, her voice catching. "I didn't understand at the time, but...you were, you were always there. Ever since the bread, I just—I've thought about you. I noticed you. You were different, I guess. And that day at the bakery, the day you got married...I realized...I realized...I had lost you. I never had you. You were not mine. So I finally—I agreed to marry Gale."

Her eyes watered at the realization, the words she had never let herself say out loud, the words she had hardly let herself think. She had only married Gale because she couldn't have Peeta.

She couldn't feel any worse about herself than she did in that moment.

He swallowed audibly, his hand snaking up her back to palm the back of her head. "I—I didn't...fuck, I didn't know. I didn't fucking know," he murmured, his voice trembling. "God, if I'd had any idea, I never would have...I never would have..."

"Don't say it," she pleaded, tugging on his shirt. "Please, don't fucking say it." She didn't think she could bear it.

Peeta pulled back slightly, forcing her head up so he could look at her face. His blue eyes were swimming. "I have to, I have to say it, Katniss. I love my wife, but you—it's you. It's always been you." She closed her eyes again tightly, her heart in her throat, and he cradled her face between his hands. "If I had known how you felt, I would have been with you. I love you." Her heart stopped then, and her eyes snapped open. "I love you," he repeated earnestly, his eyebrows pinched together as he looked at her. "I've always loved you."

How could he love her? She wasn't sure how anyone could at this point, but Peeta especially. She just stared at him, her mouth hanging open, her heart now beating painfully in her chest.

His lip curled in contempt, his eyes drifting to gaze at the ground. "I know. I'm a horrible fucking person. I married a woman knowing I was in love with someone else. I'm terrible. I've hated myself for it, but I thought...I thought the feeling would lessen over time...but...And now, I've betrayed my wife. I just—this isn't me. I didn't think I was this kind of person...but here I am..." He shook his head, falling silent.

She felt dazed, not sure how to respond. If he was a horrible person, then what was she? Scum. She was fucking scum. She found herself leaning into him, her hands sliding around to his back, and she tucked her head under his chin. His arms secured her there, and she inhaled deeply, her nose brushing the skin left exposed by the collar of his shirt. He was here. And so was she. If he was horrible...then, maybe, they could be horrible together. He was the only one who understood what she was feeling at this point. They had done this together; they had dirtied each other.

What was a little more dirt between friends?

Katniss pressed chaste kisses along his neck, trailing her mouth up to his jaw; his beard tickled her lips, and she could feel his pulse thrumming. Stretching up on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and that's where her lips lingered as she waited for him to react—to do something, to either kiss her or push her away, anything.

He hesitated, and the moment passed like an eternity, until he finally rotated his head, just enough to touch his lips to hers. That was all the permission she needed; she crushed her chest to his, prying his mouth open with her tongue. One of his hands cupped her face to hold her in place while he kissed her wetly, and their tongues slid against each other in a desperate quest. His fingers dug into her back, and she slipped her hands under his shirt to feel his hot skin, the tensing muscles in his back. He grunted into her mouth when her jagged nails scraped his skin, his teeth biting down on her bottom lip. She gasped before covering his open mouth with hers, pulling him closer, trying to climb up him, trying to crawl into his skin. Was it possible to want someone this much? She couldn't remember if the desire had ever been this demanding, this consuming before.

Suddenly remembering where they were, she jerked away from him, a string of spittle snapping between their mouths and dribbling down her chin. He stared at her with glassy eyes, his lips swollen and red. There was fear in his eyes, too, but she realized it wasn't fear of what they were doing—it was fear that she was going to stop.

Untangling her arms from around him, she fisted his shirt and pulled him with her as she stepped back toward the fence. "Come with me," she whispered, climbing under the fence into the forest, and she helped him through the gap. She grabbed his hand and guided him through the trees until they were concealed by the woods, then she backed him up against a particularly large tree, pinning him with her body. His hands settled on her hips, and she stretched her torso along his, nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck. There, she placed wet kisses; she refrained from sucking on the delicate flesh, knowing she shouldn't risk leaving any marks, but she dragged her teeth, nipping at his collarbone.

"Katniss," he murmured roughly. Emboldened, she tugged open his pants and slipped her hands inside the parted fly, finding his stiffening cock under his boxers. He moaned quietly as she stroked him until he was hard and throbbing in her hands, then she pushed his pants and boxers down to free his cock, sliding down his body to kneel before him. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes as he made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. His face was slack with disbelief as he stared down at her. "Katniss," he said again, a slight whine straining his voice this time.

Her gaze settled on his cock. It was thick and glorious, and her mouth salivated in anticipation. Bracing herself on his thighs, she licked the length of his erection a few times; he gasped at the first touch of her tongue, dissolving into a series of groans as she continued. Swirling her tongue around the head, she could taste the come that dotted the tip. She pulled back slightly to lick her lips. Then she took him into her mouth, sliding him along her tongue until she couldn't take any more in; she stopped before he hit the back of her throat, wrapping her hand around the base of his cock.

Peeta moaned above her, his hands grasping the sides of her head, and he curled his fingers into her hair. But he let her set the pace, and she bobbed her head up and down his length, sucking on his hot flesh. "Katniss... _fuck_ ," he hissed, his head falling back against the tree. Katniss moved her hand in tandem with her mouth, the flat of her tongue bathing the underside of his cock. She didn't know that she was particularly good at giving head, but the way his hips thrust into her face gave her confidence; she sucked harder, and he all but growled.

Before he came, he panted out a warning. She held him in her mouth as his cock pulsed, spurting semen down her throat. Gagging slightly, she swallowed what she could and pulled her head back, spitting out what she couldn't. With a cough, she clumsily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before glancing at his face. He was watching her intently, his breathing heavy.

"Sorry," she muttered, embarrassed. Dropping her gaze, she sat back on her haunches and crushed a dead leaf in her hand. Peeta tucked himself back in and zipped his pants up, then he slid down the tree to sit on the ground before her. He touched her chin, turning her face to look at him. His brow was knitted in concern and confusion, but his cheeks were still flushed.

"You don't—you don't have to apologize to me," he said, his fingers trailing along her jaw line. His eyes were troubled, though. "Why...?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Why? Why? _Why_?

"I don't know, Peeta," she said honestly, meeting his gaze. She covered the hand on her face with her own and squeezed his fingers. She licked her lips, catching a missed drop of his semen at the corner of her mouth. It tasted like him; she didn't know why she thought that exactly, but it did.

He pulled her between his legs, and then he was kissing her again, a needy, heated kiss. When he broke away, she slumped against his chest, but he tilted her head back, his large hands framing her face. "Katniss, if this—if this is going to stop, it's going to have to be you, okay? You're gonna have to stop this because I—I don't think I can," he implored, his plaintive eyes boring into hers.

The problem was, she didn't think she could either.

 

She had been right; she couldn't.

As Peeta moved between her legs, she tried to muffle her moans by biting into her hand, though she wasn't sure it mattered. They were in the meadow, where she had rarely if ever seen anyone else venture, and they had moved a ways farther from where they used to meet, the tall grass and flowers surrounding them helping to conceal their frenzied movements. Her pants had been pushed down to her ankles, and his were around his hips, open just enough to free his cock, which he was driving into her mercilessly. Her shirt was pushed up as well, and he had wrenched her bra cup out of the way so he could lavish her left breast with his tongue and his teeth.

On one particular stroke of her clit with his fingers, she yelped loudly, her attempt at relative silence forgotten. He hastily covered her lips with his, licking his way into her mouth. He swallowed her moans as she frantically bucked her hips in time with his thrusts, forcing his hand to bear down harder between her thighs. She felt the momentum of her orgasm barreling through her, and she couldn't stand it any longer—she wrenched her mouth from his to dip her head back and cry out as she came.

When he finished, he rested his head on her chest as he caught his breath. Then, groaning, he crawled out from between her legs and pulled her pants back up for her, smoothing her shirt down. She felt boneless, relishing in the euphoria of her orgasm, trying not to think about anything other than the satiation of her body. Peeta flopped down on his back beside her, his breathing labored, and she watched as he removed the condom and dumped the contents on the ground, stuffing it back into its pouch. His arms dropped to the ground after he'd buttoned his pants up, and he let out a huff, staring up at the sky.

"Fuck," he muttered, and she sighed, turning her gaze to the sky.

"Fuck," she agreed. She wasn't sure why she seemed to lose all rational thought in his presence, why, despite knowing how much she was betraying Gale, despite knowing how wrong it was, she couldn't stop. All she knew was that, at least in that moment, it felt _right_ , like being with Peeta was what she was meant to do, that's where she was supposed to be.

Today was the first time they'd had sex since the fateful afternoon in her house. They had tried to resist, meeting in the meadow just to talk, then, just to kiss, then, just to touch, to reduce each other to quivering messes with their hands, as if somehow that wrong was less egregious—but ultimately, they were just delaying the inevitable. They both knew where it was heading; they both knew they wanted more (why else had he continued to carry the condom?). So, when his hand had danced teasingly between her legs, under her panties, she realized what she wanted was his cock filling her up, not his fingers, so she pulled him on top of her and freed him of his trousers. Peeta quickly got the hint.

They were both quiet for a moment, and a cool breeze rustled her hair, cooling her face. She closed her eyes. It was starting to get colder these days. School was going to start again soon, and then she wouldn't see Peeta as much—if at all. With him teaching on the weekdays, they would have no time for secret rendezvous in the meadow.

They could stop then, she told herself, cut all ties. She just wanted a little more time with him until then, just another taste of the happiness she found, writhing underneath him, before she had to let him go again. Then she could go back to her pitiful life with a man she couldn't seem to make happy.

Fingers smoothed over her brow, and she opened her eyes to find Peeta watching her. He had rolled onto his side, and he was caressing her forehead, her cheek. She couldn't help herself; she smiled. The corner of his mouth curled up, though his eyes were a cloudy blue. He shifted closer to press a kiss to her temple, but he rested his forehead on hers, his mouth brushing her ear. She could feel his warm breath, and it made her shiver.

"I know I shouldn't say this," he started, his voice low, "but what I wouldn't give to be able to strip you naked and worship your body the way you deserve so you can scream as loud as you want."

No, he shouldn't say that. But she loved to hear it all the same. Biting her lip, she curled against his chest and tucked her head under his chin. "Me too," she whispered, and he wrapped his arm around her to hold her close.

 

It was getting easier to act normal around Gale, though looking him in the eye was still difficult; she was sure he could see the guilt in her eyes. But he didn't seem to notice, and, she thought, maybe she could do this; maybe this wouldn't be too hard.

That was, until he tried to initiate sex with her one night, after they had crawled into bed to go to sleep. His hand slipped under her night shirt, trailing over her hip and her stomach, and she was paralyzed. "I miss you," he murmured in the dark, his fingers skimming the swell of her breast. "Do you think you're up for it?"

And what could she do but say yes? She rolled onto her back, and he kissed her. She kept her eyes shut as he pumped away on top of her, too afraid to look at his face, too afraid of what he might see in her eyes, and before he finished, he brought her to completion with a shuddering orgasm using his hand. She bit her lip to suppress her moan, and she stared breathlessly at the ceiling as he settled down in the bed beside her.

"I need to clean up," she told him hollowly, slipping out of the bed and tiptoeing into the bathroom. When she shut the door behind her, she turned on the sink and collapsed on top of the toilet, covering her mouth before a bark of laughter could escape. She laughed into her hands until she was sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't know what was wrong with her.

After she had calmed down and washed her face, she quietly snuck back into bed. Gale was already fast asleep.

 

Katniss sat at the kitchen table, chewing her thumbnail anxiously as she watched the clock. A glass of water sat on the table, clutched in the death grip of her hand. She was taking a sip when a curt knock sounded on the backdoor, causing her to jump and spill water down her chin. She glanced at the clock again as she wiped her face off; he was right on time.

Crossing to the backdoor, she swung it open, and her stomach swooped at the sight of him. Peeta's blonde hair was hidden from the sunlight by a cap, and he smiled warmly at her. She pulled him inside and quickly shut the door. "Did anyone see you?" she blurted, wringing her hands. He gave her a look.

"I don't know, but I tried to be careful," he said, taking his cap off and ruffling his hair. "If anyone saw me, they didn't say anything." Frowning, she nodded and distractedly tugged on her braid; she just hoped everyone else was too busy working to notice a Merchant visiting the Seam. He glanced around her house, running a hand through his curls—a nervous habit of his, she had noticed. Her own heart was fluttering. It was risky to bring him to her house again (that was only one word from a list of many she had to describe her audacity), but she couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said in the meadow the last time. She wanted to see him naked and in all his glory; she wanted him every which way, not just a frantic fuck in the grass, and she wanted to scream his name without fear of being heard.

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she motioned for him to follow her into the living room. "Do you want anything to drink or eat?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Just you."

His quiet words pulled her up short, and she whirled around to face him. There was a hungry glint in his eyes, and an electrical current prickled at the base of her skull. "Take your clothes off," he demanded in a gravelly voice, and she obliged without hesitation. As she pulled off her shirt, he removed his as well, and he groaned in appreciation when his eyes landed on her bare breasts. He stopped to watch her slide her pants down, and she kicked them off her feet. "Those, too," he nodded at her underwear, and she shimmied out of them, ducking her head shyly as she stood naked before him. He closed the distance between them in one step, and her eyes lingered on the bulge in his pants before he tipped her head up. "You are exquisite," he murmured, his large hands trailing down her neck, over her shoulders. When his callused palms caught on her pebbled nipples, she inhaled sharply, closing her eyes as they continued their path down her hips, sliding around her back to grasp her bottom.

"I have waited 15 years, _at least_ , to taste you," he whispered in her ear, and she trembled. He dipped a hand between her thighs, and she gasped as his fingers slid through the wetness pooling there. "I think you're ready," he mused playfully, pulling his hand away and sucking his fingers into his mouth. When he moaned in approval, she thought she might come right then. "I want you on the couch."

She moved quickly, perching on the edge of the sofa, and he kneeled down in front of her. Her legs quivered from her nerves as he pushed them apart, opening her to him, but he leaned up to kiss her. His tongue probed her mouth, and she grabbed onto his shoulders, her hands sliding down over his shoulder blades; he was always so hot to the touch. When he broke the kiss, his face hovered so close to hers, their noses bumped together. "Take out your braid?" he asked, and at her confused look, he smiled boyishly. "Please?"

She could deny him nothing—that was the problem, wasn't it?—so she unwrapped the elastic band and unplaited her hair. His hand slid into her tresses, his fingers briefly massaging her scalp before combing out her long, dark hair. It fanned over her breasts, and he kissed her again, deeply, to show his gratitude. His mouth moved down to her nipples where he further showed his gratitude, sucking them into his mouth.

It wasn't until he had her writhing and begging for his attention elsewhere did he finally lower his face to her center. At the first flick of his tongue, she arched off the couch, but he pinned her thighs open before they could snap closed. His mouth was unforgiving as his tongue slid between her folds, thrusting inside her, then circling the bundle of nerves at the apex. Peeta moaned against her, the vibrations making her gasp, and when he nipped gently with his teeth, she practically shrieked. Her thighs clamped around his head, and she moaned at the feel of his beard tickling the delicate skin of her inner thighs. It was better than she had imagined.

He pushed her thighs open again to plunge his fingers inside her while he sucked on her clit, and her hands fisted in his hair, tugging him closer. She didn't even recognize the guttural, incoherent sounds she was making, but she didn't care. She was desperate for her release, and only his tongue could bring it to her. When she felt the familiar tingle surging at the juncture of her thighs, she pressed his face closer; he didn't seem to mind, opening his mouth wider over her, and as she came with a cry of his name, he lapped at her greedily.

She barely had time to recover before he was kissing her, his tongue sliding against hers so she could taste herself there. "Bend over, on your knees," he said, his voice husky, and she scrambled to get into position as he removed his pants and his boxers. She braced herself on her forearms while he put the condom on, trembling as he situated himself behind her. He reached up to wrap her hair around his hand momentarily, tugging her head back, and she moaned at the sensation. Letting her hair go, he pushed into her gradually, and they both groaned in relief. But that was as slow as he was going to go; he shifted his hips back, then immediately began thrusting into her, hard and fast. The slapping of their skin together punctuated the sound of her moans, and he gripped her hips tightly, jerking them back to connect with his on every thrust. Katniss could feel the build-up to another orgasm as her body still reeled from her last, and she keened into the cushions, her fingers clawing at the couch.

"Peeta, I—I..." she broke off into a groan, and when his fingers connected with her clit, her body seized up; she shouted into the cushion as she convulsed around him, and he moaned. His arms held her hips up so he could continue to thrust into her, but the rest of her body sagged to the couch, her arms too weak to prop herself up any longer.

"Katniss," he grunted, one of his hands splaying over the small of her back. "I'm gonna—ah—gonna come..." She clenched his cock inside her in response, and he groaned loudly, coming after a few more hard thrusts. His furious movements stilled as he pulsed inside her, but he gasped suddenly, jerking out of her. "Oh, shit."

Confused, Katniss pushed herself up on her hands and looked at him over her shoulder. "What?"

His wide eyes were full of alarm when he looked at her. "I, uh—the condom broke."

She blinked as she stared at him, struggling through her haze to comprehend what he'd just said. That was when she saw the ripped condom on his cock, and she gasped, scurrying off the couch to stand up. As she moved, she could feel his semen running down her thighs. "Shit."

Neither of them moved for a moment, until he finally went to pull off the ruined condom. She darted out of the living room down the hall, and he called after her. "Just give me a minute!" she yelled, barricading herself in the bathroom. Her heart beat wildly, and her reflection looked flushed and crazy-eyed. Grabbing a washcloth, she wet it and hastily cleaned herself off, scrubbing furiously between her thighs, though she knew it didn't make a difference. She cursed loudly, rinsing the washcloth off, then she braced her hands on the counter as she thought. This wasn't the first time this had happened to her; when they had first started having sex, she and Gale had broken a couple condoms in the process of trying to figure out what size fit him best. She must have given Peeta the wrong size all those weeks ago in the Hob.

She hadn't gotten pregnant before, though; she would be fine. She could get some wild carrot seeds from her mother, as she had done in the past. It was going to be fine, she reassured herself because what else could she do?

After splashing her face with cold water, she dried off on a towel and quietly slipped out of the bathroom. She grabbed some other clothes to put on, and when she walked back into the living room, Peeta was already dressed and sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looked up when she crossed to the front of the couch, sitting down beside him. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize, Katniss. If I had realized, I would have stopped—" he fretted, but she touched his arm to stop him.

"It's okay," she said shakily. "I...It's happened before. I can take something. We'll be fine." His face was still pinched with concern, so she smiled, her chin quivering only slightly, and she tried to smooth out the wrinkles in his forehead.

"Okay," he whispered, catching her hand to squeeze it. When he smiled at her, she leaned forward to kiss him. She didn't want the day to be ruined; they had so little time left together.

"Let's go to the meadow for a little bit," she suggested, and he nodded. After one more kiss, she waited for a few minutes after he'd left through the back door to leave through the front.

She would go to her mother's on her way back from the meadow, before Gale got home.

 

It was the moment she stopped anticipating it that it finally happened.

She was fashioning some arrows on the living room floor, her materials spread out around her, and Gale was skinning a couple squirrels in the kitchen. There was a knock on the front door, and Katniss looked up, surprised.

"Can you get that?" Gale called from the kitchen. "My hands are dirty."

"Sure," she said, climbing to her feet. She couldn't imagine who would be visiting them at this hour, but maybe it was one of Gale's coalminer friends. Opening the front door, she was not prepared for who she saw.

Analise.

Katniss' heart leapt into her throat as she stared at the person on their front step. Although the woman wore a scarf to conceal her blonde locks, Katniss could recognize that face anywhere; it haunted her dreams most nights. Analise glowered at her, her blue eyes flashing. "I knew it was you," she sneered, and Katniss blinked, her mouth going dry.

"Wh-what?" she squeaked, her grip tightening on the door knob.

Analise pulled something out of her pocket—a piece of paper—and she unfolded it, shoving it into Katniss' chest. Shaking, Katniss grabbed it to look at it. Her stomach dropped to her feet. It was the drawing Peeta had sketched of her in the meadow. "You're a filthy fucking whore, you know that, right?" Analise hissed at her, and Katniss blanched.

She sensed Gale behind her before he even spoke. "What's going on?" he asked, a hint of an edge to his voice, and Analise's glare shifted to him.

"I'd appreciate it if you kept your Seam slut away from my husband from now on," she snapped before she spun around and stomped away into the night.

Katniss was too afraid to turn around. Gale snatched the drawing from her hands, and when she finally looked at him, the look in his eyes was murderous.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

"I fucking knew it," he muttered, crushing the paper in his fist, and she hastily shut the door.

"Gale..."

"So, you are fucking him," he accused. She couldn't answer him, but her silence was confirmation enough. His jaw clenched and unclenched. "Fucking the baker's son. I can't believe you, and then you _lied_ to me about it—"

"I didn't!" she interjected. "I mean, I-I wasn't, then." She cringed, and his lip curled.

"So—what? You figured you'd just go ahead and fuck him then? Figured you might as well because I already accused you of it?"

"N-no, it wasn't like that," she said, her voice trembling, and his nostrils flared.

"No? Then tell me what it was like," he demanded, but when she didn't respond, he seized her wrist, yanking her toward him. "Tell me, damn it! How long have you been fucking him?" he yelled.

Katniss flinched, tears welling in her eyes. "Just—just a month, or so, I guess," she whispered fearfully, not sure if he was going to hit her. He'd never been violent with her in the past—but then again, she'd never cheated on him before.

"Oh, _just_ a month or so, huh?" he sneered, throwing her arm aside, and she rubbed her wrist. He turned away from her, his hands tugging at his hair.

"Gale," she tried. "I'm sorry—"

He punched the wall then, making her jump in shock. He punched it again before whirling back to look at her. "I can't believe you! You cheat on me with some townie asshole, and you're _sorry_?"

"I am!" she cried, but he laughed, a harsh, cruel kind of laugh.

"Not as sorry as you're both gonna be," he hissed, pushing around her to fling the door open. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was going to do.

"Gale, please don't!" she shrieked after him as he bounded down the front steps. "It's my fault! I'm the one you're mad at!"

He stopped, hesitating a few feet from their front porch before he bolted back inside. "Tell me where he lives," he demanded, and she realized he didn't know. She shook her head desperately. "Tell me, god damn it!"

"No! If you're gonna yell at someone, then yell at me!" she cried.

"You want me to yell at you? Fine!" He slammed the door shut and advanced on her, and she backed up. "You're a lying, selfish, miserable bitch, and you only care about yourself and what _you_ want!" She winced, biting down on her lip, hard, as tears slipped down her cheeks. He snorted derisively, glaring at her. "Do you even know how many opportunities I had to sleep with someone else? Do you even know how many women throw themselves at me? But you know what I didn't do? I didn't fuck them behind your back!"

She was sure that was true; Gale was a desirable partner, at least in the Seam. She didn't have to wonder why he didn't take advantage of those opportunities—because he was a decent person.

"I'm sorry, Gale, I'm so sorry," she whimpered, stepping toward him, but he jerked away from her.

"Get out."

Her eyes widened. "What? Gale—"

"Get the fuck out of my house!" he yelled. She shrank back, the heat of his glare knocking the air from her lungs, and then she fled into the night. She heard the door slam behind her as she ran. She didn't even realize where she was heading until she found herself at her mother's house. The door was locked, so she knocked frantically. When her mother answered the door, Katniss burst into tears.

"Katniss, what's wrong?" she asked, leading her inside, and Katniss swiped at her tears.

"G-Gale and I had a fight. Can I stay here?" she stammered, and her mother's face softened as she pulled her into a hug.

"Of course," she murmured, and she just stroked her hair as Katniss cried on her shoulder.

 

Katniss stayed at her mother's house for a while. Gale refused to talk to her when she would come back to their house, brushing past her with a tight "I can't look at you right now" on his way out the door to the Hob. Defeated, she packed up some of her clothes and a few of her personal items and took it back to her mother's. She didn't tell her mother what they were fighting about—she was too ashamed—and her mother didn't push for a reason; she rarely pried in her daughter's business, probably because of their strained relationship when Katniss was a teenager.

"It's a bad one," was all she told her. "I really hurt him this time, mom."

Katniss didn't see Peeta while she was at her mother's; she had no idea what had happened between him and Analise, if he knew his wife had confronted her, if he had even sought her out to talk or knew where she was at this point. School started up again while she was at her mother's, so she knew he was busy again. She couldn't deny that it hurt, though; she had anticipated ending their affair at the end of summer, but she had wanted at least one last day with him, a chance to say goodbye.

Maybe it was for the best this way. She spent a couple days in hiding before she forced herself to set up her booth in the Hob again. This time, the patrons threw her knowing glances, whispering with each other as they passed her. She gritted her teeth and tried to hold her head up. At least, Sae and Ripper didn't let on that they knew what had happened. Katniss also hunted, but she didn't trade in town, not yet.

Not once on her hunting trips did she encounter Peeta in the meadow.

The stress of the situation was still making her sick. She felt nauseated most days, her stomach tight with anxiety. Often, she suffered a pounding headache, which made trying to do her business in the Hob unpleasant for her and, she was sure, for others. She tried to refrain from snapping at patrons who threw her nasty looks, but she didn't hesitate to glare back at them.

She had never claimed to be a nice person. Now, everyone else knew it. Well, good.

Getting out of bed was hard most days. All she really wanted to do was sleep and shut out the rest of the world, but she didn't want to worry her mother any more than necessary; she didn't want to have to admit to her out loud what she'd done, though she imagined the gossip had to have reached her by now, but if her mother knew, she didn't let on.

It wasn't until Katniss was hunched over the toilet, puking up her lunch, did it cross her mind that something else might be making her sick. She had been skinning a rabbit at her mother's kitchen table when the smell made her stomach roil—an unprecedented development in her 19 years of hunting.

As she rinsed her mouth out in the bathroom sink, she stared at her pasty, haggard reflection and froze. She tried to recall her last period; she had bled some a few weeks ago, a couple days after she'd taken the wild carrot seeds. It hadn't lasted long at all, but she'd assumed she was menstruating and the seeds had done their job.

But maybe they hadn't, after all.

Shit.

She found her mother in the living room restitching a seam in a ratty shirt. "Mom," she said, her voice strained. Her mother looked up, her brow creased. "I—I think I, I think I might be pregnant." The word tasted awful in her mouth.

Her mother's eyes widened, and she carefully set her shirt down. "Are you sure?"

"I don't know. I haven't been feeling well, but I just thought...I just threw up. For no reason. I don't think the seeds worked."

Her mother stood up and crossed to a hutch in the living room where she stored her medical supplies. She rifled through a drawer and pulled out an immunoassay test strip, then she moved into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, holding it out to her daughter. "Go into the bathroom and get me a urine sample."

After she'd returned the cup to her mother, who stuck the test strip into the urine, Katniss paced the kitchen until her mother forced her to sit down in a chair at the table. She was too scared to watch the strip, so she buried her face in her folded arms on the table. All she could hear was her quick, heavy breathing as her mother slowly stroked her head.

"Katniss," her mother said quietly a few minutes later, and Katniss tensed. "It's positive."

Her agonized moan was muffled by her arms, and she squeezed her eyes tightly. But she jerked her head up, looking at her mother wildly. "I can't—I can't be. You have to give me something else."

Her mother sighed, settling down in a chair beside her. "Katniss, honey, are you sure you want to do this? I know you and Gale are going through a rough patch right now, but maybe...maybe this is a good thing."

Katniss just stared at her mother, a new wave of terror gripping her heart. She had to tell her. "Mom...it's not Gale's."

Her mother blinked, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. "What?"

Katniss tried to swallow the cotton ball that had sprouted in her mouth. "It's not...his. I slept with someone else." Tears sprang to her eyes before the words even left her mouth.

Her mother's lips parted in shock, and she didn't speak for a moment. "Oh...oh, dear," she murmured, and Katniss looked away, furiously blinking against her tears, but a couple slipped down her cheeks, anyway. Her mother sighed again and covered her daughter's hand with her own, squeezing gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I don't know," Katniss muttered, swiping at her tears angrily. Then she sighed. "Gale and I..." It wasn't his fault, she had to tell herself. He hadn't made her do anything. "I just haven't been happy for a while, mom. We fight all the time, and I can't— _won't_ —give him what he wants. And I just—instead of doing the decent thing and ending things with him, I...I had sex with someone else."

Her mother furrowed her brow. "Just once? Sometimes, people make mistakes—"

"No," Katniss interrupted. "Many times. I—I had an affair with another man. For a month...longer, really." Because even though they hadn't had sex right away, she realized now what they'd been doing all those weeks prior to.

Her mother opened and closed her mouth a few times. "Who—can I ask who it was with?"

Katniss shifted uncomfortably, chewing on her lip. "Peeta Mellark," she mumbled, and her mother's eyes widened.

"Peeta Mellark?" she repeated, and Katniss nodded, dropping her gaze to the table.

Her mother was silent for a while, too long, and Katniss couldn't take it anymore. "I know, I'm a horrible person! You don't have to say it!" she bemoaned, a new wave of tears welling in her eyes.

"No, you're not—"

"Yes, I am! Who does that? What kind of person does that to her husband?"

Her mother sighed again, squeezing her daughter's hand. "Katniss...did I ever tell you how your father and I got together?" she asked, her voice tight, and Katniss looked at her, sniffling.

"You said that you heard him singing in town one day and that he had the most beautiful voice you'd ever heard."

She smiled wistfully. "He did, though I think you could've given him a run for his money." Katniss rolled her eyes, but her mother continued, "Did I ever tell you that I was dating someone else at the time I met your father?"

Katniss narrowed her eyes. "No..."

Her mother leaned back in her chair. "I was. We were—well, we weren't engaged, but it was pretty serious. Everyone thought we were going to get married, and I did, too, honestly. I loved him, but...when I met your father, it was different—it was fire. I fell in love with him so hard and so fast. It was scary, and—well, I wasn't married yet, but I didn't break it off with my boyfriend right away. I...I did some things that I regret, and I know I hurt him when I finally told him about your father." Her mother's face looked pained, and she had a faraway look in her eyes. She shook her head. "I'm not sure how he ever managed to forgive me for it, but somehow he did. It took me a lot longer to forgive myself. He never said a word against me, though, in all this time, even when everyone else I knew turned their backs on me."

Katniss stared at her mother, mystified. "Who was he?"

Her mother pursed her lips, which spread into a sad smile. "Faren Mellark."

Katniss gaped at her. " _What_? Peeta's _father_?" Her mother nodded. "Wha—how come you never told me this?"

Her mother sighed, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. "I didn't think you needed to know. I had no idea it would ever be relevant," she replied quietly, and Katniss slumped in her chair as she digested the information. Her mother and Peeta's father used to...and now she and Peeta...She didn't know what to think, what to say.

Her mother stood up then, crossing to the hutch to grab more supplies. "The point I was trying to make, Katniss, is that—sometimes, things happen. Things you're not prepared for, things you might not be equipped to deal with. And sometimes, you hurt people with your thoughtless actions, even if you don't mean to." Crossing back to the kitchen, her mother set down two vials of dried herbs and a mortar and pestle.

Sitting in the chair across from her daughter, she continued, "What you did was horrible, but I still don't think you're a horrible person. You hurt Gale, and you feel bad about that—good, don't forget that feeling. Learn from it. If you can remember this, you'll do better at dealing with others' feelings in the future. I didn't avoid hurting Faren altogether, but I did end things between us before someone could get really hurt."

Her mother reached out to wipe away some of her daughter's tears when they started to fall harder. Katniss tremulously flashed her a bitter smile. "Guess you handled it better than I did."

Her mother's face knotted in consternation. "I grew up differently, I think. I'm sorry that...failed you, after your father died. I'm sorry if what happened to me changed the way you connect with other people, how you love. I wish I could go back and change what happened," she said sadly, and Katniss looked away in discomfort. "There's a lot of things I should have handled differently. You're not the only person who makes mistakes."

Katniss swallowed, desperately wiping at her tears, but she was unsure how to respond to that. No doubt her father's death and her mother's crippling depression and emotional abandonment affected her, but she had tried to forgive her mother years ago.

With a final sigh, her mother opened the vials in front of her and dumped some into the mortar. "Do you think you know when conception occurred?" she asked, her tone stern and business-like.

Katniss wracked her brain, fidgeting with her braid. "About four, five weeks ago," she said quietly, her cheeks flushing with shame.

Her mother nodded. "I need you to put a pot of water on the stove," she instructed. "I'm going to make a tea of blue and black cohosh for you to drink."

"Will it work better than the seeds?" Katniss asked in a small voice, getting up to fill the kettle with water. Her mother shot her a look, her face bleak.

"It should. It's going to make you a little sick, though."

 

Her mother hadn't lied.

Katniss had to consume the tea several times for a couple days—her mother even woke her up at certain intervals during the night to drink—until she started bleeding. The abdominal and uterine cramps she suffered were intense and debilitating, and she stayed in bed for days, crying and writhing in pain, dry heaving and puking occasionally into a bucket. Her mother kept an eye on her temperature, often pressing cool rags to her forehead and her neck, and she checked her menstrual rags for her as Katniss had no idea what to look for.

After about a week, as her mother helped her back into bed from the bathroom, she murmured, "It looks like it worked." She brushed some of Katniss' hair off her sweaty forehead. "You should be okay now."

Katniss wasn't so sure. She rolled over and closed her eyes, so her mother left her to sleep. She thought she'd feel more relief; she hadn't expected the rush of sadness. A few fat tears squeezed out from her closed eyelids, rolling down her cheeks, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stifle her sob. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil; she didn't understand why she felt so heartbroken.

She had always known that, if she were to find herself pregnant, this would happen. But she had been far removed from the reality when she'd made up her mind then; in theory, it wasn't so scary, so finite, so consuming. What she'd done in the past, the precautions she had taken, they had not been as real as what she'd just done. Before, she'd only prevented implantation, possibly, if that. This time, she had actually terminated a pregnancy. It had been a fetus conceived in the throes of an illicit affair, one she did not want—but it had been Peeta's. And he had no idea.

A sob ripped from her throat, and she smothered her cries in her pillow. Oh, God, she knew it was the right thing to do; she knew it was what she had wanted. But it still hurt like hell.

She had really made a mess of things. She supposed this was the punishment she deserved for her transgressions.

Her mother told her to take it easy for another week, but she needn't have bothered. Katniss couldn't bring herself to leave the bed. She felt weak and tired and utterly disheartened. She alternated between sleeping and staring at the wall blankly. Her mother had to force-feed her, insisting it was important that she heal her body. But without Katniss hunting and bringing in game, they didn't really have anything to properly nourish her body back to health. So her mother made her broth and had Prim bring over some food. Fortunately, her mother had promised not to tell her sister what had happened and made up some excuse about Katniss having the flu.

Prim sat with her and chatted about Aster and her work, and Katniss listened and smiled weakly, but she didn't really have the energy to respond. Sometimes, she just pretended to be asleep when her sister stopped by. It was easier than having to pretend she was fine.

She was deep asleep when she was roused by a comforting touch on her forehead. She assumed it was her mother, or even Prim, so she burrowed further under the covers, determined to ignore the person stroking her hair, until she caught a whiff of something familiar.

Cinnamon and dill.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring into Peeta's blue eyes. He was sitting in a chair next to her bed. "What..." she croaked, blinking in confusion. He smiled softly at her, pulling his hand back. But before he could answer, her mother, who stood behind him, spoke first.

"I brought him here. I thought it might be good for you," she explained carefully. "I'll let you two talk." She left the room, and Peeta cleared his throat. Katniss finally noticed how red his eyes were, as if he had been crying recently. Her heart fell.

"She told you," she whispered accusingly. When he nodded, she moaned pitifully, drawing away from him, and a fresh round of tears hit her.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not mad. Please, don't think I'm mad. Don't be upset," he pleaded, his voice thick with his own tears. He reached out again to touch her face, his palm cupping her face as his thumb wiped away her tears.

She whimpered. "How can you not be mad at me? You can't—you can't have children with—and I just..." She bit down hard on her lip. He pursed his lips, his eyes watering, but he smiled tearfully at her, a small one, like he was trying to reassure her.

"You don't want kids. I...that's probably the least complicated aspect about this whole situation, really. But I understand why you did what you did. I would never hold that against you." She screwed her eyes shut, and he went back to stroking her hair. "I'm just worried about you. What you must be going through..." He sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry about Analise. I didn't know she had found the picture. It was unforgivably careless of me...I didn't know she'd gone to your house until after. And I didn't know where you'd gone to at first. Then, I figured it was probably best that I left you alone while you and Gale..." he trailed off, unsure, and she blinked her eyes open.

"He kicked me out," she said hoarsely. "He won't even talk to me right now."

Frowning, Peeta arched an eyebrow. "Guess he did enough talking to me."

Her eyes widened. "He talked to you?"

"Well, his fists did, anyway." She groaned, turning her face into the pillow. "I deserved it," he added, as if that were some kind of consolation. "After what I'd done, I figured I should let him get in a couple good punches. Rye pulled him off me, but for a few days I had a nice bruise on my jaw to go with the shiner Analise gave me."

She looked at him in horror. "Oh, my God. How can you—how can you joke about it like that?"

He gave her a look. "Sorry," he murmured, running his thumb along her eyebrow. "Guess I learned how to take a hit in stride a long time ago."

Her lip quivered, and he brushed away another tear that pooled in the corner of her eye. "I'm so sorry. I really fucked this up," she whispered.

"I think it's safe to say we both did."

They were quiet for a moment before Peeta spoke again. "I wish...I wish things could have been different for us," he said quietly, and she looked at him. The tired resignation on his face made her ache.

"You're staying with her, aren't you?" she murmured, but it wasn't really a question. He dropped his gaze for the first time since she'd awaken, clasping his hands together.

"I have to...I have to at least try, Katniss. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try to fix this," he said quietly.

"Even though she hits you?" she retorted, and he sighed, shifting uncomfortably.

"We've both hurt each other now, so I guess the playing field's been leveled."

She looked away, not even able to muster up the right kind of rage at his statement. He didn't deserve the abuse, but she guessed they all had to pay for their sins in whatever way they saw fit. "Did you know my mother and your father used to date?" she asked lightly, changing the conversation, and he looked amused.

"I did."

That surprised her. "Really? How did you know?"

"My dad told me, a long time ago. When I was 5, actually." He smiled, sheepish. "That was the first time I ever saw you. I was smitten with you the moment I heard you sing the Valley Song in class."

Her throat closed up at his confession, at how eerily it mirrored her parents' story. "How come—how come you didn't tell me you knew?"

He shrugged. "It never came up." He squinted at her, the corner of his mouth twitching. "You Everdeen women sure have a thing for bakers and coalminers." She didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry, and he coughed, noticing her distress. "Sorry, I shouldn't joke right now."

She was glad he hadn't lost his sense of humor, at least. She just felt broken.

Smoothing her hair down again, Peeta looked at her pensively. "I think about it all the time, you know. What would have happened if I'd been a little braver back then, if I'd just talked to you. What would have happened if I'd just told you how I felt...Maybe in another time, another world, things would have worked out differently for us."

But she shook her head. "Even if they had, you would have grown to hate me, too. Just like Gale. I still wouldn't have wanted kids, and you'd come to resent me for it, eventually."

Unexpectedly, he smiled at her, such a sad smile that it broke her heart. Tears pooled in his eyes, spilling over. "If it was you? I could bear it. As long as I had you."

Her vision blurred, and she tucked her chin to her chest, inhaling shakily. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then he whispered in her ear, "I love you, Katniss. Please, don't ever forget that."

He started to pull away, and she was seized with panic, her hand shooting out to grab his hand. "Please. Stay with me, just a little longer, please," she choked out on a sob. His face softened, the pain raw in his eyes.

"Always," he murmured.

But she knew it was a lie.

 

Katniss was eating lunch in the kitchen while her mother made some tea when someone knocked on the door. They exchanged wary glances; her mother didn't have many visitors. Taking the kettle off the stove, her mother crossed to the door to answer it.

"Hi, Florence. How are you doing?"

Katniss clenched the spoon in her hand, fear stiffening her body at the sound of his voice.

"Gale, hello. It's good to see you. Come in."

Her mother stepped aside to let him in, and Katniss' breath hitched at the sight of him. He was always a handsome man, but, before the past month, she had gotten used to seeing him every day. His hair fell across his forehead, and the dark smudges under his eyes hinted at his exhaustion. When he looked at her, his mouth tightened, and she wanted to drop her head in shame. "Hello," he murmured, and she nodded her head in greeting, setting her spoon down carefully.

Her mother glanced between them, then moved to grab her sweater. "I think I'll go visit Prim for a little while, give you two time to talk," she said on her way out.

Gale cleared his throat, inching closer. "Well...you look like shit," he mused, but his tone wasn't completely mean. She grimaced. Her natural response of "So do you" seemed misplaced at the moment; she didn't know how humorous he was feeling right then.

"I've been feeling like it," she said instead, and he pulled out a chair to sit in. He was quiet for a moment, and she struggled for something to say. "I, uh...how are you?"

He gave her a look, running a hand through his hair. "Been better." She nodded, dropping her gaze to the table, despondent. "Sorry it's taken me so long to talk to you. I just needed some time to think."

She chewed on her lip, scratching at a wood grain in the table with her fingernail. "I understand," she murmured. "I—I'm so sorry, Gale. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"But not sorry you did it."

She looked at him sharply, her mouth parting in protest. "I—of course, I am," she said stubbornly, and he shook his head.

"I've known you a long time, Catn—Kat _niss_ ," he replied, his eyes narrowing. "And I've never known you to do something you didn't want to do."

Her eyes were wide, and she looked away, swallowing. What could she say to that? "I'm still, I'm still sorry. For all of it. You...you are the last person I ever wanted to hurt. But I did. And I don't know how to fix it."

He didn't respond at first. "I don't think you can," he said finally, and she closed her eyes. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. About you. About us. Things haven't been too good with us, have they? For a while."

She shook her head. "No, they haven't," she agreed quietly. He sighed.

"Were you ever happy? Did I ever make you happy?"

"Of course, you did!" she said urgently. "I _was_ happy! I was happy for a while, I just..."

"Then why did you do it?" he demanded, his eyes flashing angrily. " _Why_?"

She didn't know how to answer that question, at least in a way that would appease him. She had wanted Peeta; she had only been thinking about herself. And maybe, maybe she had wanted to get caught, to bring everything to a crisis. Because she was too cowardly to just say she wanted out. "I don't know, Gale. I guess because I'm a lying, selfish, miserable bitch," she parroted his words from before.

He huffed, his eyes flicking away from hers. "I don't feel like I even know who you are anymore," he muttered. "But maybe I never did. Or maybe I knew, deep down, but I just thought I could change you. I thought loving you would be enough."

Ashamed, she dropped her head again. He continued after a moment, "I thought about sleeping with someone else. To get back at you. I almost did."

She pursed her lips, trying to quell the hurt. "Why didn't you? I wouldn't have blamed you if you had," she whispered.

He sighed. "Probably because of that. Because it wouldn't have mattered to you. Because it's probably what you wanted. It would have made us even, but then I'd be no better than you."

Katniss flinched. He didn't think he knew her, but it sounded like he understood her perfectly.

"Did you ever love me?" he asked, defeated, and she looked up at him, her eyes watering.

"I did. I swear I did. I loved you a lot. I still do. I just..."

He nodded, and he blinked furiously against his own tears. He didn't say anything for a moment, then he pulled some papers out of his back pocket. Unfolding the document, he slid it across the table toward her. Her heart stopped when she read the big, bold words up top:

**Petition for Dissolution of Marriage**

Her wide eyes darted between his face and the paper. He just watched her solemnly. She read further: " _The petitioner GALE HAWTHORNE states that the marriage between petitioner and respondent KATNISS HAWTHORNE has been irretrievably broken on the grounds of ADULTERY_."

She bit down on the inside of her cheek, her heart racing. The word _ADULTERY_ raged inside her head. "This is—are you sure this is what you want?" she croaked, her voice strained. He gave her a tired look.

"I think this is what we both want," he answered resolutely. Nodding in resignation, she wiped at her tears and flipped through the rest of the pages, not really seeing. "The petition states that I would retain the house. Nothing personal, it's just standard procedure for infidelity," he muttered.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. "That's—that's fine. I would, I'd want you to keep it, anyway," she said miserably, rubbing the back of her hand across her nose. "Do you have a pen?"

He pulled one out of his pocket and handed it to her. Her hand trembled as she took it from him and flipped to the page requiring her signature. He had already signed. With a deep breath, she scribbled her name and dated it. Then she slid it back across the table to him. Gale hastily brushed at his eyes and folded the document up, stuffing it in his pocket.

"I'm so sorry," she said again, meeting his gaze. "I really, really am. I hope...I hope you find someone who will give you the love and happiness you deserve."

He stood up, his brow furrowed in deliberation. "I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for, Katniss," he said. She peered up at him.

"Do you—do you think you could ever forgive me?" she asked meekly, not sure it was even her place to ask but already sure she knew the answer; she had to know, had to hear him say it.

The look he gave her was devastating. "No," he said honestly, the pain thick, and then he was gone. Katniss wasn't sure how long she sat at the kitchen table, tears running down her cheeks. She was barely aware of her mother returning, Prim in tow, until her sister crouched at her side.

"Katniss?" she asked timidly, and Katniss couldn't stifle her sob.

"Gale, he—he filed for divorce," she gasped, and Prim just held onto her while she cried.

It was done. It was over. Somehow, Katniss knew this was going to happen; this was how it was meant to be. She was alone, just like she'd always figured she would be. Just like she deserved to be.

 

Moving on with her life had been tough. She and Gale were officially divorced on October 23 of that year, and she moved back in with her mother. The day she'd gone back to her old house to move her stuff, he had been there to help her. Things were tense and awkward between them, and she ached to know that she'd lost such an important person in her life—not just him but all of the Hawthornes—but she knew she only had herself to blame. She figured it was at least promising that he bothered to help her move. She saw him around the Seam and the Hob periodically after that, and he'd just nod stiffly at her in passing; she heard talk of him dating and occasionally saw him keeping company with a couple different women. It hurt to see, but she hoped he was happy, at least.

She still had her business in the Hob, but she mainly steered clear of town. The Merchants hadn't been too forgiving of what she'd done, soiling a Merchant marriage, as they probably saw it, and they weren't really willing to trade with her anymore. They still wanted her meat, however, so she had her mother take it to the few Merchants who still begrudgingly offered her their products in exchange for a fresh kill. She knew it was cowardly of her to avoid them, but she still needed time to heal. And more than anything, she wanted to avoid seeing Peeta. Getting over him would be much harder if she had to be constantly reminded of what she'd lost. She had no idea how he and Analise were doing; she didn't ask anyone, and no one offered any news.

She was glad for that.

The only thing she couldn't avoid was the meadow. She crossed through it every time she went to hunt, and her still-mending heart shattered just a little bit every time.

It was summer again, and the meadow was now lush and full. The yellow blooms of dandelions dotted the green field, and Katniss stopped to survey it as she wandered home from her hunting trip. For the first time in nearly a year, she felt at ease. Leaving the woods, she ambled farther out into the meadow and set her game bag down. A warm breeze kissed her face, rustling the fine hairs around her neck and her forehead. Taking a deep breath of the clean air, she sat down in the tall grass. After a few minutes, she reached up and pulled the elastic band out of her hair, combing her nimble fingers through her long hair to work out the braid. With a sigh, she stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her hands. Then she stared out across the meadow, over the softly rolling hills that sloped back into the woods in the distance, the boundaries of the district delineated by the fence that stretched all the way around.

She heard rustling behind her, and her body tensed, ready to flee. Her mouth went dry suddenly, and she was too afraid to turn around.

"Finally letting your hair down?"

His voice. After all this time, she hadn't expected her body to react so strongly to just the sound of his voice. But a chill ran up her spine, and her heart fluttered painfully. She swallowed, but she didn't look at him until he sat down beside her.

Peeta smiled at her, and breathing was impossible. He was as gorgeous as ever, his golden curls lustrous, his blue eyes bright, his strong jaw line shrouded by his ever-present blonde scruff.

"Thought it was a nice day to feel the wind in my hair," she murmured when she finally found her voice. He nodded thoughtfully. "What are you doing here?" she couldn't help but ask.

He smiled again, a shy one this time. "Thought it was a nice day to feel the wind in my hair," he echoed back to her. She looked away from him. "How have you been?"

That was a loaded question. She squinted, peering into the distance. "As well as to be expected, I guess," she said guardedly, keeping her eyes trained on the meadow. "You?"

He sighed. "Better than I have been."

She lifted her eyebrows and hummed noncommittally. "That's good. And—how is Analise?" she asked after a pause.

He didn't answer for a moment, and she had to fight the urge to look at him. "She's going to be fine, I think," he said, his voice low. "We're not together anymore. The divorce was finalized last week. I've been staying at Rye's until I can get my own place. She's pretty...upset. With me. But I think we both knew it was coming a while ago."

She licked her lips, not sure how the news made her feel. "I'm...sorry it didn't work out," she muttered uneasily, her brow furrowed.

"It's okay. I gave it a try. I had to," he replied, looking down at the grass as he yanked out a few blades. "But I was just fooling myself. I think I am simply and utterly doomed to be hopelessly in love with only one woman for the rest of my life." Her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes widened, but she didn't dare look at him.

"Oh?" she rasped for lack of a better response, and he sighed loudly.

"Yeah. I can only hope she's willing to forgive the unbelievable extent of my stupidity this last year, though I wouldn't blame her if she was ready to be done with me completely. I'm not entirely sure I'm worth the trouble," he said sincerely, a little glum.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing nervously. Then she steeled her resolve and took a deep breath. "She might be willing...if you brought her some cheese buns."

He laughed then, a hearty sound that resonated from his belly. She looked at him, and his eyes sparkled at her, the corners crinkled in relief. At the sight, she felt a responding tug in the pit of her stomach. "I'll see what I can do, Katniss," he said, tugging up a bright yellow dandelion from the ground. He twirled it between his fingers, then he reached up and tucked it behind her ear, flashing her a heart-stopping grin.

And she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think herbal abortifacients are anything to trifle with, especially when there are other safer resources available for women who find themselves with an unwanted pregnancy. But I think this would have been a reality for people in District 12, and I imagine Mrs. Everdeen potentially helped a lot of women with this issue. I did a lot of research on this subject: sisterzeus.com has a lot of helpful information about this topic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it's been a while since I've written or updated anything, especially this story. Hero of the Story was originally only meant to be a two-parter, and it was technically completed. But this story was my baby, still is, and I've missed the universe and the characters. And I had a lot of people asking for me to write an epilogue or something for it. I kept promising them I would, but I didn't want to write anything until I had a really good idea for a third part. I didn't want to taint the tone and message of the first two chapters with something banal or unnecessary. So I held off on writing anything for a while. Until back in February or March, when I suddenly had an idea of where to take this story, how to really wrap it up. And it felt right, finally.
> 
> Hopefully, readers agree. I'm very nervous about this part, much like I was with the original story, because it dealt with controversial themes, but themes I was confident in. I hope what I've written here doesn't undermine or negate the matters I touched on in the first two parts, however. I was hesitant about that and tried to be very conscientious of the serious subject matter I first wrote about, even though this part goes in a different direction. So I hope it's satisfactory to the readers while remaining true to the tone and message of the first two parts.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and if you've been waiting on a follow-up to this story, I hope it brings you closure and contentment.

 

Katniss kept her head down as she made her way through town, certain she could feel the eyes of every Merchant she passed boring into her. And she knew most of them were, silently judging her, hating her. Merchants were not the forgiving type, she had learned fairly quickly, and even two years later, they still refused to absolve her of her greatest sin to date: sleeping with a married Merchant man. She couldn't say she blamed them; she hadn't really forgiven herself, though most of her pain and guilt lie with the hurt she'd caused Gale.

The Seam people were a little more gracious, at least—maybe because they had more pressing issues to deal with than who was fucking whom. Issues like death and starvation. Katniss was grateful she had been able to continue her business in the Hob with few repercussions; she still provided the best meat and most affordable birth control, after all. And she needed the money. While she lived with Peeta, his salary wasn't much more than what Gale had made in the mines. The district didn't seem to esteem school teachers any higher than coal miners, apparently.

Peeta only fared mildly better than she had after the affair and through the resulting scandal of his divorce and his shacking up with her. As the "Seam slut," she bore the brunt of the town's hostility. Part of her really didn't care, but she hated herself for putting Peeta through the misery, especially because it had caused a rift between him and his family. Katniss at least still had the support of her mother and Prim, but Peeta fought regularly with his mother, when she would even acknowledge him. His brothers kept their distance, and she knew that hurt him the most. His father was nice enough, but he was noticeably silent when it came to his wife and her treatment of Peeta. Too many times Katniss had found Peeta hunched over the dining table in dejection after another failed argument with his mother. It broke her heart. She tried to give him an out each time, offering to pack up and return to her mother's house, but he refused to let her go; each time, he was absolutely incensed she would even suggest it.

"Nothing makes sense without you," he'd murmur heatedly as they made love, pushing into her repeatedly.

They'd had a slow courtship after his divorce, both solemnly aware of how the district would react to their relationship; she'd only moved in with him six months ago. If she were a smart woman, she would have turned him away that day in the meadow when he'd come to her. But she wasn't smart. She was selfish, and she couldn't deny him. Being without him was unimaginable.

Katniss was glad their house was away from the heart of town, at least. As a teacher, Peeta had been assigned a small house not far from the school, and while they had neighbors, it was more isolated than his old house near the square and the bakery. She didn't have to deal with as many judgmental glares as she trekked through that part of town, and as she approached her house now, she finally lifted her head, her shoulders already lighter, more relaxed. Jogging up the steps to the porch, she quickly unlocked the front door and slipped inside. Her empty game bag slumped to the floor where she toed off her boots, and she wandered to the back of the house to the bathroom. She twisted the knob on the faucet to fill the tub with water. After a day in the woods, sledging through the melting snow and mud, a bath was in order. Indoor plumbing was one of the benefits of living in town—maybe the only benefit, really.

As the tub filled, she stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the tub once the water level was high enough. She sank down into the steaming water with a sigh and waited till the temperature turned lukewarm before finally scrubbing herself raw with a washcloth. Once she was clean, she climbed out of the tub and dried off, redressing in a fresh outfit. She threw her dirty clothes in the clothes bin to be washed later that night, after she'd made and eaten dinner with Peeta. He would be home from school soon, so she immediately got to work preparing their planned stew.

She was chopping vegetables when she heard the front door open. An automatic smile spread across her face, as it always did in Peeta's presence, and when she heard his heavy footsteps approaching, she glanced over her shoulder to greet him.

"Hey," she said, but her face immediately fell at his hard expression. His eyes were cloudy, the skin pinched between his eyebrows, as he stalked toward her purposely. "What's wrong—"

Her question stuck in her throat when his body pinned hers against the counter, and he wrapped his hands around her wrists, flexing them slightly to force her to drop the knife she was holding. He then flattened her hands to the counter and pressed the full length of his body against her back. Shocked, she faced forward; her eyes were trained on the small kitchen window, where she could see out across their backyard at the leafless, scrawny trees and soggy grass. His breath was hot on the back of her neck as he breathed heavily, making the tiny hairs on her skin stand up, but she wasn't scared. She could feel the beginnings of his erection through his pants against the lower curve of her back.

"Peeta..." she tried again, but her voice lacked any conviction. Her body was pliable and yielding. He really didn't even need to hold her hands down, but she gave him this, sensing there was something he needed to work through.

"Spread your legs," he demanded, already nudging her thighs apart with his knee. She complied, sliding her bare feet out across the hardwood floor. Peeta released her wrists then, snaking them down to her waist where he unfastened her pants and pushed them down her hips. Katniss braced herself against the counter as she stepped out of them with the aid of his eager hands, and then she resumed her stance once he'd kicked the offending garment out of the way. He gripped her waist with his hands, her own flat against the counter still, and he pressed his mouth to her ear. "You're gonna stand here while I taste you," he breathed.

Her breath hitched in her chest, and she began to tremble in anticipation of his tongue between her thighs. "Okay," she agreed shakily, her hips already arching back against his erection, but he pushed her against the counter and dropped to his knees behind her. Her eyes closed when his hands slid down her backside, his fingers disappearing under the edges of her underwear as he cupped her cheeks firmly. When they dipped between her thighs to tease her lips, she shuddered; his fingers passed back and forth over her folds to ready her. She could feel the wetness starting to leak out of her in response, her clit fluttering with pleasure, and she exhaled loudly, his name a soft sigh on her lips.

That was all the encouragement Peeta needed. She felt him stretch the crotch of her panties to the side, and then his tongue was gliding through her folds to lick up her arousal. "Shit," she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut as he dipped his tongue inside her. The coarse whiskers of his thick beard tickled her lips with the movements of his mouth, and he cupped her pelvis with his right hand, his thumb parting the apex of her folds to stroke her clit. Katniss released a moan, which he echoed, the vibration resounding through her core, and she moaned louder. His thumb began rubbing tight circles on her clit, syncing with the flicks of his tongue through her lips. He stopped to open his mouth over her wider, his tongue darting inside her to taste her better. She fisted her hands around the edge of the counter to steady herself, hunching forward. Her legs were trembling now from the exertion of holding herself up, from the delicious electric current his tongue sent through her body.

"Peeta," she whimpered, panting hard. He moved his mouth toward the front of her mound to swipe his tongue over her clit, and she cried out, prompting him to furiously lap at the swollen bud in varied patterns until he was pleased with the response. Her hips began rocking against his face, her legs mostly uselessly as she used her arms to hold herself above him. "Peeta, I'm gonna come," she begged, as if it were a plea, and his tongue resumed tracing her folds while his thumb resumed its attack on her clit. The pleasure mounted mercilessly and swiftly at the command of his tongue and fingers, and she only managed a choked sob of relief when her orgasm hit. Her clit throbbed with each wave of ecstasy, and Peeta drank up her arousal as it seeped out of her.

By that point, he was providing most of the support for her boneless body, and when he moved out from between her legs, she let her body slump down. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lowered her to the ground, propping her up in his lap as he sat down with her. She held onto his thighs as she caught her breath, willing her limbs to stop shaking, and he just buried his face against her neck. His erection was still hard against her ass, but he made no move to undress himself or fuck her, and once her vision had stopped swimming and she'd regained control of her motor functions, she twisted in his arms to look at him.

"What was that for?" she asked breathlessly.

He smiled slightly, but his eyes were still cloudy. "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?" he replied wryly, loosening his hold of her to lean back on one of his hands.

She scowled at him, but it was playful. "Yes, and I'd always tell them there were no horses in Twelve." Peeta chuckled lightly, then he huffed, blowing air through his lips to imitate a nickering sound, and she rolled her eyes. Her jaw set in determination, however, and she regarded him sternly. "Peeta, seriously. What's wrong?"

His expression shifted, his mouth drooping slightly, and he just shook his head, averting his gaze to stare at the floor. He fell silent, and she reached up to caress the beard that shrouded his jaw, finally eliciting a sigh from him. He just shook his head. "Nothing new. Just the usual shit."

His mother. Of course. He must have talked to her, swung by the bakery on his way home for some reason.

Katniss' face fell, guilt blooming in her stomach as she stared at his forlorn face. Helpless, she offered the only thing she could think of at this point: Dropping her hand between them, she rubbed his erection through his pants suggestively. "Do you want me to do something for you?" she asked coyly. The corner of his mouth quirked before it tipped into a crooked smirk, but he just gave her another resolute headshake.

"No, it's fine. You're in the middle of making dinner." With that, he pushed off the floor to stand up, helping her to her feet as well. She didn't budge, however, searching his face, but he avoided her eyes. "I'm gonna go clean up, and then I'll help you with dinner," he murmured, kissing her forehead before slinking out of the kitchen.

Despondent, Katniss let her gaze linger in his direction, then she sighed. Scanning the floor, she picked her pants off the ground and, scrunching her nose at the sticky feeling, positioned her underwear back in place and slipped her pants back on before washing her hands and resuming chopping the vegetables. True to his word, Peeta returned a bit later, his hair damp and his skin smelling of soap, and they finished making the stew together in silence.

* * *

"Fuck, Katniss," Peeta hissed as she rode him later, his fingers digging into her thighs. She braced her hands on his chest and leaned forward, swiveling her hips purposefully to stimulate her clit on his pelvic bone. The reward was almost instantaneous, the delicious sensation swelling in her clit until her orgasm claimed her, crashing through her fiercely. She gasped, losing her rhythm as she rode out her climax; her walls pulsed around his cock, and he groaned appreciatively, bucking his hips up against hers.

Once she caught her breath, she sat back and reared up on her shins to sink down on his cock, setting a steady pace as she bounced on top of him. She watched his face, locking eyes with him every time his blue eyes would peek through the blonde fringe of his eyelashes. His teeth encaged his bottom lip before he released it on a quiet moan, and he thrust up into her to accentuate her bouncing. Her breasts swayed before him, and he groped at them greedily, sitting up suddenly to capture her nipple with his mouth. Katniss desperately wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer, mewling as his tongue and teeth worried her nipple. "Peeta," she whispered against the crown of his head, and he groaned in response.

"You feel so good," he gasped against her breast, gripping her ass in his hands to aid her thrusts down on his cock. "Fuck, I love you so much." Her chest tightened, an overwhelming emotion swelling inside her.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, her movements faltering, but Peeta kept thrusting her down onto him, undaunted.

"What?" he gasped, distracted, and she knew it wasn't the place or time to talk about it, but the words bubbled out of her anyway.

"I'm sorry for—about your mom, that—that I'm not—not  _more_ ," she rambled, the apology wholly inadequate and nonsensical, and Peeta went still underneath her. She couldn't look at him, pressing her face against the side of his head, and she took a deep breath. "I just—sorry I'm...causing so much trouble—for you."

The silence was heavy, perforated only by their shallow breathing, and Katniss mentally berated herself for ruining the moment. She hated that she couldn't seem to control her emotions around him. He always could get under her skin. She bit down on her lip, hard, unwilling now to apologize for apologizing.

Suddenly, she was on her back then, Peeta flipping her down onto the bed, and she inhaled sharply when she got a brief glimpse of the dark look on his face as he moved above her. But he rolled her onto her side, sliding up against her back, and she cried out when he sheathed himself inside her again. She curled herself forward to allow him a better angle, and he slipped his leg under hers, forcing her knee up as he plunged in and out of her. His hand was tight around her hip, pinning her to the bed, and she screwed her eyes shut as she grunted, feeling him drive into her wildly, possessively.

"Stop. Saying. That," he gritted out between clenched teeth. Katniss arched her back even more, meeting his cock with backward thrusts of her hips. "This—none of this...makes any sense without you."

With a choked gasp, Peeta pumped into her a few more times rapidly, their skin slapping together, and then he halted his thrusts. She braced her hand on the bed and pushed back against him, taking his cock as deep as she could while he emptied into the condom, muffling his groan in the back of her neck. She could feel his heart racing through her back, his breath hot and moist on her skin, his cock throbbing inside her, and she relished the sensations.

After a moment, he tipped her face over her shoulder so he could look at her. His eyes were glossy like blue glass, and she lifted her head to place a delicate kiss on his lips, but he held her there, molding his hand to her jaw and kissing her till he was satisfied. Then he released her. "You have to stop," he said firmly. "If it's a choice between you and them...I already made that choice a long time ago. I'll work it out with my parents, okay?"

Holding his gaze, she nodded slowly. "Okay," she agreed simply, as hard as it was.

Exhaling hard, Peeta pulled away from her. Already she missed him inside her, the steady warmth he provided, and she rolled onto her back as he carefully peeled the condom off. Sliding to the edge, he stood up and crossed toward the bedroom door. Even in the dark, Katniss admired his solid frame, the broad shoulders and torso that tapered down into a firm backside. She couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips at the sight.

"I'm gonna rinse this off and bring you a washcloth," he said, almost to himself as he opened the door.

"Bring the condom back with you," she called after him softly. He stopped to look at her, his eyebrows raised in understanding then he let his own sly smile mirror hers before quickly disappearing into the hallway.

* * *

Katniss stood at the threshold of her and Peeta's house, staring out the small window to the side of the front door. She had her coat and boots on, her bag of homemade condoms in hand and ready to be bartered at the Hob in exchange for money or food or some other provision. But she didn't budge just yet, warily observing the few Merchants milling around as they began their days. In the near distance she could make out the buildings of the town square. This was her trek every day, whether to the Hob or the woods or the Seam to visit her mother. She couldn't avoid the Merchants. Which was ironic, she supposed, considering how resentful they were of her presence in their part of town, the "Seam slut" dirtying up the neighborhood; she knew they wanted her gone, thought she didn't belong, but even when they ignored her, she could sense their judgment and hostility, directed at her like arrows. But arrows probably hurt less.

She didn't belong here; that much she knew. If Merchant and Seam intermarried, they were regulated to the Seam usually, like her parents had been. But, unmarried, she had no place of her own, no free house assigned by the district and certainly no money to afford even the shittiest of houses in the Seam.

She couldn't leave Peeta behind. So here she stayed, a dark blot on this supposedly pristine town. What a joke.

Exhaling tiredly, she tightened her hold on the strap of her bag and opened the door to begin her walk to town. As she passed by Merchants, she purposely avoided eye contact and kept her sight trained straight ahead, even as she cut through town. Half an hour later, her relief was immediate the moment she saw the hazy outline of the Hob. She picked up her pace so she could escape the oppressive judgment of the Merchants she felt every time she made this trek. The sight of Greasy Sae was always a welcome reprieve; the older woman had never been anything but kind to her. When news of her affair with Peeta had hit, Sae hadn't breathed a word of it to her. She'd never even asked about her divorce, or her eventual relationship with Peeta; Katniss had been grateful for this. While others might have been offended by Sae's seeming disinterest in their personal lives, Katniss liked that the woman kept their interactions simple and unintrusive.

"Mornin', Sae," Katniss greeted her, earning a nod from the older woman and a familiar smile. She laid her bag down on her regular booth and got to work setting out her condoms. Then she settled onto her stool and waited for the customers. Normally, she got a fair amount of patrons every day she was at the Hob. Mostly, it was Seam folk purchasing condoms from her, or trading for them, but, gradually, the number of Merchants who came to her increased. It was funny to her, the same people who shunned her, coming to her in need. They didn't dare judge her as she handed them their contraceptives and took their money.

By late morning, Katniss was quietly sipping from a bowl of soup she'd purchased from Sae, her usual lunchtime meal. Business was slow at the moment, as most patrons were breaking for lunch, as well, and she engaged in idle chitchat with Sae in between gulps of the salty broth. Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she twisted in her stool to assist the customer who'd stopped at her booth.

Air stuck painfully in her throat as she inhaled too quickly, her eyes going wide in the split second it took her to recognize the man in front of her.

"Gale," she exhaled raspily, clearing her throat in embarrassment. He gave her a polite smile and a curt nod in return, like they were strangers and not childhood friends and former lovers. Or, most likely, he regarded her with the indifference and coldness afforded cuckolding ex-wives.

"Katniss," he said simply, the first words they'd exchanged in two years, since the day she'd signed the divorce papers. She'd been careful to avoid accidentally running into him since she'd started dating Peeta. She didn't hunt on Sunday mornings, as she knew that was the only day he had off from the mines to go into the woods, and she was out of the Hob before the evenings in case he stopped by to trade or get a drink. Some days, she almost forgot he still lived in the same town as her; being on the other side of the district, away from the Seam, she felt like a thousand miles away sometimes.

She took him in now, the two feet of distance between them the closest she'd seen him in a long time. He was as handsome as ever; very little had changed, aside from the small ponytail he'd pulled his hair back into. In the sun, she thought she could see a faint streak of silver winding from his temple to the elastic band at his neck. His eyes were the same gray as hers, the same familiar eyes that used to observe her with love and admiration before something more hateful consumed them.

But even now that was gone.

Her lips parted as she grasped for words, finally summoning them after a strained moment. "I...you're not in the mines," she said lamely, and he shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking into a wry smile.

"Not today," he replied, and his smile spread. "I got the day off."

"Oh?" she asked, unsure where he was going with this.

His shoulder lifted slightly as he nodded again. "Yeah. I'm getting married."

Katniss blinked at him uncomprehendingly, his words lost in the rush of blood through her ears. She couldn't have heard him right. "You're—getting married?" she repeated, her voice squeaky, and she winced at the fragile sound.

"Yeah, in a couple hours." There was silence as she stared at him, unsure how to respond, unsure still if she even understood. Shifting uncomfortably, Gale adjusted the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder, and after a beat he added, "To Lorena Black."

"Oh," she finally managed. It took a moment, but a vague image of a Seam woman surfaced in her memory, a woman with the requisite olive skin and gray eyes and long black hair that swung down past her backside when she walked through the Hob. Katniss wasn't sure, but she thought Lorena was much younger than her or Gale, mid-20s at the oldest. "I didn't know you two were dating."

"For about a year now. Well, 10 months to be exact."

Katniss nodded absently. "That's...good?" She gave herself a mental shake, hoping her grimace looked like the smile she intended it to be. "I mean—that's great. Congratulations. Um."

His smiled again, and this time there was something more serene about it. "Thank you. I'm pretty happy."

She felt her shoulders sag slightly, the tension she'd been holding there since he'd walked up to her booth dissipating, and she was finally able to manage a small, genuine smile. "I'm happy for you. For both of you. I...wish you the best," she said, and though she meant it, the words still felt clumsy in her mouth, as if she had to force them out with her tongue.

"Thank you," he said again, and there was a natural lull, like if they were anybody else in that moment, he would inquire about her own love life. But it was too uncomfortable and awkward, and maybe he still harbored some resentment about Peeta. She'd never told Gale, but he had to have heard from others by now that she was living in Peeta's house.

Nervously pulling on her braid, Katniss released her hair and gestured to her display. "Did you, um, need something...?" she offered, assuming he wanted a condom, but he flashed a rare grin at her.

"Ah, no, I was picking up some liquor from Ripper. Just thought I'd stop by," he said. His eyes flitted across her arrangement of condoms, and he shook his head with a low chuckle. "Actually. Lorena's pregnant."

Her body seemed to process the words faster than her brain, the visceral reaction of blood rushing through her eardrums, of her heart dipping to her stomach, stealing any coherent response from her. She just stared at him mutely; she couldn't even care how ridiculous she must look to him, her eyes wide and mouth agape, like he'd just told her he was President Snow or something equally improbable. His brow creasing in concern—or suspicion—roused her from her stupor, and she stumbled over her tongue to force out some kind of reply. "You're—pregnant?" she squeaked.

Gale laughed at that. "Well, no, not me. But I  _am_  gonna be a father."

"Oh," she breathed, her vision swimming; she blinked a few times in an attempt to clear it. "Oh," she repeated. Gale, a father. Gale, getting married. It all sounded ludicrous. "That's...I mean, that's...good. For you. Wow."

"We found out a couple weeks ago. We think she's about nine weeks along," he explained, but it sounded like he was talking to her from the other end of a tunnel. "It's still early though, so..."

"Yeah," was all she offered. She briefly wondered if they'd gone to her mother. Did her mother know that Gale was expecting?

"Yeah," Gale echoed as the conversation floundered. If he expected her to engage him any further about his new wife and their baby, he was going to be waiting forever. She wished he would leave already. Clearing his throat, Gale offered another laugh. "So I guess we won't be needing a condom anytime soon."

"Guess not," she said flatly, swiping at the sweat beading along her forehead. She couldn't even make eye contact with him, focusing on the dingy collar of his undershirt poking out from underneath his jacket.

"Well...take care," he said, his voice tighter than a moment ago as he nodded to her, then to Sae. He didn't wait for Katniss to respond before he turned away, walking out of the Hob. Once he was out of sight, she released the breath she'd been holding, visibly deflating. Her hands started trembling—a mounting of nervous buildup in her body—and she glanced to her right at Sae.

The older woman was watching her critically, her mouth twisted into a frown. "You okay, girl?" she asked, and reflexively Katniss nodded her head.

"Yeah," she said, trailing off before she shook her head. "No. I think...I need to go home for the day. I just...I need to go home." She was mostly talking to herself as she hurriedly began to pack up her supplies, carelessly shoving the condoms into her bag with her bartered items and the few pieces of money. She bid a distracted farewell to Sae and then darted out of the Hob, practically running all the way back to her house. She didn't stop running until she was safe inside her house, for once oblivious to the stares of others.

She spent the rest of the afternoon in bed burrowed under the covers until Peeta came home. She was dreading this conversation, but she knew she couldn't keep it from him. Still, when she heard him enter the bedroom, she didn't budge.

"Katniss? What are you doing in bed?" he asked. The concerned lilt to his voice was comforting but not enough to coax the words out of her just yet. The bed dipped under his weight as he sat down on the edge behind her, and then she felt his hand rest on the crown of her head. And just like that, the tension drained from her body, almost as if he were absorbing it through touch. With a sigh, she rolled onto her back so she could see him. His face was pinched in worry as he stared down at her, his fingers brushing the hair out of her face. Just looking at him, suddenly she implicitly understood what she was upset about, what had been gnawing at her since her talk with Gale. "You okay?" he asked again, voice low.

She nodded slowly. "Yes. I mean...I will be. I just...had a bit of a shock today. At the Hob," she said haltingly. Peeta's brow dipped further in confusion.

"What happened?" There was a note of alarm in his voice. She wanted to kick herself for causing him to worry. She was an adult; she should be better equipped to handle unpleasant situations.

Pinching her lips together, Katniss surveyed their bedroom as she formulated her response. "I saw Gale today," she finally revealed, and there was a flash of surprise across Peeta's face. She rushed ahead, "He's getting married today. And his wife is pregnant."

Something dark dimmed Peeta's eyes, and his jaw tightened as she felt more than saw him stiffen on the bed beside her. He withdrew his hand and regarded her wearily. "Oh," he said. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. "And...this upsets you?"

Katniss exhaled loudly through her teeth and forced herself into a sitting position, the covers falling into her lap. "Not in the way you're thinking," she said firmly, her eyes glued to his face. His expression didn't change; he just waited for her to elaborate. Licking her lips, she pushed her hair out of her face. "It's just...I haven't spoken to him since that day at my mom's house," she said, recalling the day he brought her the divorce papers to sign. The palpable hurt she had caused him, that seemed to follow him into that house, it still stung to think about. "We used to be friends. Best friends. There was a time when I knew him better than myself. And now...we're strangers. It was like learning that somebody I didn't even know was getting married. I don't even know him anymore. I just—how did I get it so wrong?" she implored, though she knew Peeta couldn't answer that for her. She shook her head to herself. "I don't know how I screwed everything up so badly. I never should have married him. I don't even miss him, really. Which is the weirdest part. I just...I'm upset that I don't miss him, that I ruined things to the point that I  _can't_  even miss our friendship because...I don't even know what that's like anymore."

She wasn't sure she was making any sense; exasperated, she sighed and dropped her gaze to the comforter, picking at an errant thread. She wanted to be happy for Gale; she was, a little. She was glad he'd found someone else, a woman who could love him and give him the children he wanted. But it was with the same detached regard she gave anyone else in the district when she learned of their happy news. Less than, really, because there was still the looming threat of the reaping in 12 years.

"Sorry," she muttered after a moment. "I guess I just needed to process everything. I haven't heard anything from him for two years, and then it was all dumped on me at once. It was overwhelming."

She watched Peeta, his broad frame hunched over the bed. He wasn't looking at her now, his eyes trained on the bedspread, but his profile was pinched in consternation. Finally, he took a deep breath and released it, lifting his head to meet her questioning gaze. "I get it. I can understand why that would be hard for you. I have to hear about Analise all the time, so I'm constantly inundated with news on her life."

Katniss frowned at that. "Oh?"

Peeta's eyebrow quirked slightly, the corner of his mouth twisting into a wry smirk. "My mother, of course."

She rolled her eyes, pulling her knees up to her chest and hooking her arms around her legs. "To remind you of what a horrible decision you made, I guess?"

"Sounds about right," he said drolly, then he shrugged. "Well...I guess it's great for Gale, right? That he's moved on and found somebody." Katniss nodded quietly, and after a moment of silence Peeta added, "I guess it's safe to assume we're not invited to that toasting ceremony, huh?"

When she narrowed her eyes at him, he broke out into a grin. But he continued, assuming a thoughtful pose. "Think I should make them a loaf of bread for their toasting?" he suggested, and she snatched a pillow up to smack him with it, causing him to laugh.

"You're awful," she chided him, unable to fight her own smile.

* * *

She found Peeta in the kitchen Saturday afternoon after she'd returned from her hunt and her regular Hob visit. He was exuberantly pounding out a slab of dough, and for a moment she watched him, thinking he was angry about something. But then she noticed the smile on his face.

"Hey," she greeted him, shrugging out of her jacket and slinging it over the back of a dining chair. It was mild out, but sweat had already dampened her shirt during her walk home. When he looked over his shoulder at her, his face split into an even wider smile. "What's got you so happy?" she asked, a faint smile already teasing her lips. He stopped kneading the dough and snatched a towel off the counter to wipe the excess flour off his hands.

"I talked to my parents earlier," he started, and immediately his words had her on edge. He noticed this and shook his head. "No, it was—it went well, actually. My mom finally agreed to let you come over. I mean, she invited both of us to dinner. Tonight."

Katniss was a little dumbfounded; she wasn't sure how to react. While it was nice that his mother was finally willing to acknowledge her existence and presence in Peeta's life, Katniss still wasn't sure she was ready to confront the woman, not yet. For some reason, Mrs. Mellark intimidated the hell out of her. "Tonight?" she hesitated, pulling her braid over her shoulder to stroke anxiously. "That's...it's such short notice."

Peeta stepped toward her, his expression hopeful. "You can get cleaned up now, there's plenty of time. I'm gonna make some dessert to bring; you don't have to worry about anything else," he said placatingly, and Katniss chewed on her lip, doubtful. "Please? I feel like this is our only window of opportunity, and if we back out, she definitely won't be willing to reschedule. I just want her to meet you and see what I see in you."

At that, Katniss cut her eyes to him, her face twisting into something sardonic. "Peeta, you know as well as I do she'll never see me that way. Not after everything."

He pursed his lips together but relented, his face softening. "No, you're right. But she can at least accept that you're not horrible," he joked, and she scoffed.

"Such high standards," she grumbled, but she smiled despite herself when he pulled her against him, resting his hands loosely on her hips.

"It'll be okay, I promise. And if it's not, this is the only dinner we ever have to do with them, okay?"

Katniss took a deep, steadying breath before nodding her acquiescence. "Okay, yeah," she agreed, reaching up to peck his lips before untangling herself from his embrace. "I guess I should get a headstart on scrubbing all the Seam grime off me, huh?"

Peeta shrugged. "I like the Seam grime. But yeah, you do smell kind of bad," he teased, laughing when she shoved his chest before stalking off to the bathroom.

* * *

Katniss had changed outfits for this dinner four times, rotating through all the hand-me-down dresses her mother had given her until she'd found one suitable for a meeting with Peeta's mother. "Suitable" meant the least amount of holes and noticeable stains. The green dress she'd finally settled on, a relatively simple cotton frock that tapered at the waist to give her the barest semblance of curves, only had one small hole, where the threads were unraveling around a seam, but she was able to stitch it back together before they'd left for the bakery. Katniss didn't want to give Mrs. Mellark anymore ammunition to hate her, and she had the distinct feeling the woman was the type to hold a grudge over threadbare garments. It was nerveracking, being the deciding factor that would determine the course of Peeta's relationship with his mother. Under any other circumstances, Katniss wasn't sure she'd care about appeasing her, or any other Merchant, but she knew how important this night was to Peeta, and she didn't want to cause anymore upheaval in his family's life.

Now, as she walked side-by-side with Peeta to the bakery, her hand securely tucked into his, she nervously smoothed down the flyaways of her elaborately braided updo with her other hand; the stares the two of them got as they strolled purposely through town did not go unnoticed by her, though she wasn't sure Peeta noticed them. She didn't think him stupid, and they'd discussed the matter before, but he hadn't grown up under the staunch oppression she had in the Seam; she sometimes thought him naive to the fact that the Merchants didn't just judge them for the circumstances of their relationship but for her class, as well. Naive maybe wasn't the right word either. Unconcerned, rather. The attention still rattled her, however.

But this time on her trek through town, their stares were the last of her worries as they neared the bakery. Once it was in sight, she inadvertently squeezed Peeta's hand. He glanced at her and smiled. "Don't worry. It's going to be fine," he whispered, but his words couldn't conceal the anxiety in his eyes and the creases over his brow. Oddly enough, she was somewhat comforted by his nervousness.

Her heart was in her throat once they stepped up to the backdoor of the bakery, and she reluctantly released his hand so he could knock. She briefly wondered if it was weird to him that he had to knock on the door of his childhood home, so unwelcome by his family now. It was a tense moment as they waited for someone to answer the door, and Peeta flashed her one more smile for reassurance before the door finally swung open to reveal his father.

His hair was a dusty blonde now, and his face bore the harrowing marks of age, making him look older than he was, as living in Twelve did for anyone, but his eyes warmed at the sight of his son. "Hey, son," he greeted kindly, pulling Peeta into a hug. Katniss shifted uncomfortably, nudging a loose pebble off the brick steps with the toe of her boot, but when Mr. Mellark's eyes switched to her, she managed a more genuine smile. "Hey, Katniss. It's good to see you. Welcome to our home," he said as he released his son. For an uncomfortable moment, the three of them stood there, and horror washed over her as she realized she wasn't sure if she was supposed to hug him or shake his hand. He made no move to do either, uncertainty flashing in his eyes, and an awkwardness began to settle between them.

Luckily, Peeta broke the standoff, thrusting the container of strawberry shortcakes he'd made into his father's hands. "We made dessert," he offered. He was being fairly liberal in his statement as Katniss had spent all afternoon preparing herself for this encounter, not helping with dessert.

"Ahh, the old Mellark family recipe," Mr. Mellark appraised, then he stepped back to let them inside. "Thank you. Come on in. Your mother is finishing up dinner now."

Katniss followed Peeta over the threshold, and as she passed by Mr. Mellark, she suddenly realized she hadn't even spoken yet. "Um, hello, thank you," she mumbled hurriedly, embarrassed, but he nodded at her with another gracious smile.

"I hope you two like pot roast," he said as he trailed them through the bakery kitchen to the stairwell that led upstairs. Peeta cast a surprised look over his shoulder at his dad.

"Pot roast? Mom didn't have to go through that much trouble—" he started, but Mr. Mellark waved him off, shooing them up the stairs.

"This dinner's important," was all he said from behind Katniss. She was equally as surprised as Peeta, as his mother most certainly had to go to the butcher to buy the fairly pricey meat, but Katniss had a sinking feeling that Mrs. Mellark indulged on the dinner to remind Katniss of their status; that sort of thing was more important than her resentment for having to cook a nice meal for "Seam trash."

Once inside the modest-sized living quarters over the bakery, Katniss took a moment to discreetly survey her surroundings. Their home was nice, even nicer than the house she and Peeta lived in, but the furniture and walls showed signs of years of wear and tear. The Mellarks seemed to take a keen interest in decorating, something neither she nor Peeta really bothered with. She was curious about his childhood room but didn't think it a pertinent time to ask to see it.

Peeta turned to her when her father disappeared into the kitchen to put the dessert away, his eyes wide with concern. "You doing okay?" he asked quietly, and she nodded, forcing a broad smile for his benefit.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, and once he was reassured, he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

Unfortunately, Mr. Mellark returned at that second, his wife at his side. When she saw them, she cleared her throat scornfully, causing both of them to jerk apart. Katniss got a glimpse of Peeta's red cheeks, sure they mirrored her own, before he spun around to face his mother. "Mom, hey, thanks for having Katniss and me over," he said, striding over to hug her. Katniss stayed rooted to her spot, frozen underneath the icy stare of Mrs. Mellark.

This was a bad idea.

"Well, it's what you wanted," Mrs. Mellark sniped, barely sparing Peeta a glance as she offered her cheek for him to kiss, her gaze still fixed on Katniss. There was nothing welcoming in those eyes, eyes so similar yet so different from her son's. Katniss used to think Peeta resembled his dad the most, but now, seeing his mother up close, it was obvious whom he took after. How could someone so cold produce someone as warm as Peeta? It was unfathomable.

If Peeta was bothered by his mother's tone, he didn't show it; he was probably used to it by this point. Nervously, Katniss smoothed her hand over her braid before folding her arm across her stomach. She didn't know if Mrs. Mellark was going to greet her—it didn't seem like it, despite the glare she was leveling at her—so Katniss swallowed thickly and squared her shoulders back. "Um, hello, Mrs. Mellark. The roast smells good," she said carefully, enunciating each word clearly.

The woman's eyebrow twitched as it hiked up her forehead, just barely. "It should," she said coldly, dismissively, and Katniss stared at her wordlessly, at a loss as to how to respond to that.

Sensing the tension, Mr. Mellark swept his wife back into the kitchen. "Why don't we finish the food while Peeta and Katniss set the table?" he suggested, gesturing at the stack of plates left on the dining table.

Once the two were out of the room, Peeta grabbed Katniss' hand to steer her over to the table. "You okay?" he asked, divvying up the plates for the two of them to set out. Katniss took a deep, steadying breath.

"You already asked that," she muttered, slowly circling the table as she placed the two plates in front of seats.

"We won't stay long," he reassured her, as if he could already tell dinner was going to be painful. Katniss just nodded, helping him set out the silverware as well.

His parents returned after a moment with the dishes of food, Katniss and Peeta assisting them with the food as well. Katniss made sure to avoid direct interaction with his mother as each time she passed her, the older woman leveled her with a steely gaze that made Katniss feel like that helpless 11-year-old again, digging through the woman's trash for scraps. She hated how intimidated the woman made her feel, but she was beginning to understand how Peeta lived a life completely kowtowed by his mother.

"Please, have a seat," Mr. Mellark instructed them once the table was set. He smiled at his son and Katniss as they rounded the table, Katniss looking to Peeta to tell her where to sit. "We're interested in hearing more about you, Katniss, though Peeta's already told us so much." There was a jarring screech of wood as Mrs. Mellark pulled her chair out sharply, and Mr. Mellark glanced at his wife warily before turning his attention back to Katniss. "Oh, let me take your jacket for you."

Surprised, Katniss looked down then quickly shrugged her jacket off and reached across the table to hand her coat to Peeta's father before settling down in her seat at the table. There was a sharp intake of breath to her right, and her eyes darted to Mrs. Mellark. The look in her eyes made Katniss' blood run cold, and she froze in alarm. What had she done now?

Mrs. Mellark suddenly slammed her napkin down on the table, rattling her plate and cup. "You slut," she hissed, eliciting appalled gasps from her husband and son. Katniss just stared at her, wide-eyed. Peeta was the first to jump to her defense.

"Mom, what the hell—"

Shooting to her feet, Mrs. Mellark nearly knocked her chair back as she fixed her son with a deathly glare. "How dare you disrespect me and your father like this—"

"Disrespect  _you_?  _Us_?" Peeta asked incredulously, his voice rising in anger as he stood up as well.

Mrs. Mellark continued, raising her own voice over his. "How  _dare_ you knock this Seam slut up and bring her into our house!" she yelled. Her accusation rendered Katniss and Peeta speechless, and they could only stare at her mutely as they tried to process her words.

"Honey, what are you—" Mr. Mellark tried to intervene, weakly, but his wife fixed her glare on him.

"Look at her tits! They're huge! They're full of milk, Farren! He knocked her up!" she screeched, then she whirled back on them. Self-consciously, Katniss crossed her hands over her chest as her cheeks burned in humiliation. "After everything you've done to this family, this is the worst—"

"Mom, she's not pregnant!" Peeta yelled over her. "You're insane!"

"I had three sons! You think I don't know when someone's pregnant?" she sneered at him. Peeta looked at Katniss helplessly, and when she felt their stares on her, she shook her head weakly.

"I'm—no, I'm not pregnant. We use..." she trailed off, embarrassed she was being forced to discuss her sex life with these people. "I'm not—I'm  _not_."

Mrs. Mellark slammed her hand down on the table so suddenly, Katniss jumped. Peeta's cup rolled off the side and shattered on the floor. "How could you do this to your family? It's one thing to sleep with a Seam bitch, but to get her  _pregnant_? Do you know how that makes us look?" she demanded.

"I don't give a fuck how it makes you look!" Peeta growled. "I don't give a fuck how it makes  _me_  look. Why are you doing this? She's not pregnant! Why can't we just have dinner—?"

"Because you ruined this family!" Mrs. Mellark screamed. "You ruined our reputation! And look what you did to poor Analise! Who do you think is going to marry a barren, divorced 30-year-old woman?!" At that, Mrs. Mellark's eyes homed in on her, narrowing into slits. "And all for this-this  _slut_ ," she spat, leaning over to shove her. With a gasp, Katniss tipped backward but was immediately pushed forward by Peeta catching her chair. He slapped his mother's hand away, hard.

"Don't touch her," he threatened, advancing on her as he pulled himself to his full height, but then his father inserted himself between his wife and son.

"Peeta, leave. You two need to go now," he said quietly, and though he was only just shorter than his son, Peeta backed down. A wounded look flickered across his face before he set his jaw, helping a dazed Katniss out of her chair.

"Don't worry, we won't be back," Peeta spat out, his hand clasped tightly around Katniss' hand as he led her away from the table. He snatched her jacket off the couch and stomped down the stairs to the bakery. Katniss had to hold onto the wall, the rush of adrenaline making her lightheaded as Mrs. Mellark's screams followed them out the back door.

Black spots begin to pepper her vision, and Katniss had to physically force Peeta to slow down. "Peeta, not so fast," she gasped, still stumbling behind him and squeezing her eyes shut. He slowed to a minimal pace but kept walking.

"I'm sorry she touched you," he said tightly, sparing her a glance as he led her home, but his eyes were glazed, his neck blotchy with anger. She stayed quiet, keeping her head down to stop the rush of blood and to watch her step so she didn't trip. "I'm sorry I brought you there. I should have known...I should have known she'd..."

They didn't speak the rest of the way, trying to hurry as quickly as they could and dodge the prying eyes of neighbors, though even through her haze Katniss could feel their stares, hear their whispers. She knew she and Peeta had to look a sight at that moment, both frazzled and stumbling in their haste to get through town back to their house. She hoped that Mr. Mellark had at least kept his wife inside the bakery and that she hadn't stormed out the back after them to yell more obscenities.

Once they were back in the safety of their home, Peeta angrily shut the door before releasing a heavy sigh, then he turned to her, taking her face in his hands. "Are you okay? I mean, physically?" he asked, his voice thick with concern as he critically examined her face, her torso. Katniss nodded.

"Yeah, she barely—I've experienced worse," she tried to reassure him, but she couldn't deny how shaken she felt by the encounter. She studied his face, finally noticing the tremble in his hands, and she curled her fingers around them. "Are  _you_  okay?"

Something swelled in the blues of his eyes, his face tightening, and after a moment he released her, stepping back to rub his hands over his face. "I...I didn't mean to hit her like that, I've never—in all these years," he bemoaned, his voice muffled by his hands. "I just...the moment she laid a hand on you, I couldn't see straight. I thought I was going to black out, I was so angry."

"It's okay," she whispered soothingly, advancing on him to stroke his arm and coax his hands down to his sides. Despite her words, she didn't feel okay; her stomach was still twisted in a knot, her pulse pounding, but she swallowed against the dryness of her throat. "What else could you do? She was out of her mind. I'm not—" She stopped abruptly, thinking back to the moment, and she absent-mindedly touched her chest. "We haven't...had any accidents. I haven't been sick or anything."

Peeta's eyes focused on her face, and he fell silent for a moment as if he was only just then remembering what had sparked the fight. Then he shook his head, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled then exhaled deeply. "I know. I think she just was looking for any reason to hate you. She's always been like that. I'm so sorry I brought you into that environment. I should have known better," he said contritely, but she pulled him into a hug, putting his arms around her waist and then wrapping hers around his neck.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too," she murmured against his ear, inhaling deeply, dragging his familiar scent into her lungs to calm herself. After a few deep breaths, Peeta rocking her slightly, it seemed to help. But something continued to tug at the back of her mind, weighing her stomach down like a stone, that she couldn't quite shake off.

* * *

She still couldn't shake it the next day, or the day after that. She tried to put it out of her mind, but Mrs. Mellark's words haunted her. She forewent her trek to the Hob one morning, instead lying in bed until Peeta left for the school.

Eventually, once she was sure he was out of the house, she dragged herself out of bed and stood in front of the mirror, taking stock of her body. Her night shirt still hung loosely on her body, and she gingerly cupped her breasts through the loose material. Were they bigger? They felt like it, but she couldn't decide if it was a reality or just Mrs. Mellark's accusation shading her perception. She recalled how much snugger the dress felt around her chest, only a minuscule difference in the fit that she hadn't thought twice about before.

Chewing the corner of her bottom lip, she pulled her shirt off over her head so she was standing topless before the mirror. Then she observed the reflection of her breasts, touching and testing the weight of them in her palms. If they were bigger, Peeta hadn't said anything—or noticed, it seemed. Katniss pinched a nipple lightly, furrowing her brow? Were they sore, too?

With a deep frown, she dragged her hand down to her stomach to examine her belly. She stretched her fingers out over the plane of her abdomen. It still felt tight, flat, maybe the faintest swell. Closing her eyes, she exhaled in frustration and dismay.

When had her last period been? She forced herself to do the mental calculations, but she couldn't recall. It had to have been at least a couple months now. That wasn't necessarily cause for alarm; she often had irregular periods, going months without a normal cycle because of stress or malnutrition. While her eating habits had improved over the years, especially in the last couple, her stress hadn't abated in the slightest.

Now that the germ of concern had been planted, she could feel the icy tendrils of fear seeping down her spine. Something was wrong. She needed to see her mother.

Katniss wasted no time getting dressed and making the journey to the Seam, hoping her mother wasn't off helping someone else. She didn't bother knocking, flinging the front door open with frantic haste. Her mother, who sat at the dining table sipping tea, startled at her entrance, her eyes going wide.

"Katniss?" she asked, setting the cup down. "What's wron—"

"I need a pregnancy test," Katniss blurted. Her mother froze, her lips thinning into a line as the two women stared at each other. Then she very carefully, but resolutely, stood up from the table.

"Okay," she said simply before walking over to the hutch of medical supplies in the living room. Katniss wrung her wrists as she waited, only moving closer when her mother turned back to her with a immunoassay test strip. "You know what to do."

Quietly, Katniss took the strip and headed for the bathroom, grabbing a cup from the kitchen on her way. The next few minutes were a blur as she robotically went through the requisite steps. The time she waited for the strip to change seemed to stretch on, and her hand shook as she pulled it out of the urine simple.

She stared dumbly at it for a few tense seconds, holding her breath, before she realized she had no idea how to read it. She released the air in her lungs on a tight, short laugh, then she exited the bathroom. Her mother looked up at her expectantly from the table.

"I don't know what it says," Katniss said sheepishly, handing the strip to her mother. Mrs. Everdeen took it gingerly and studied it only for a second before sighing.

"You're pregnant," she told her solemnly. Katniss winced; the statement was a punch to the gut, despite how much she knew it already, deep down. Inhaling shakily, she covered her face with her hands.

"Shit," she said simply, the sound muffled. Distraught, she dropped her hands to her sides, sure her mother's look mirrored her own.

Setting the strip on the table, her mother eyed her warily. "Peeta's?" she asked cautiously. Katniss' mouth twisted into a sneer.

" _Yes_ ," she snapped, indignation swelling at her mother's insinuation. "Of course, it is."

Her mother held her hands up placatingly. "I just meant...do you two want...?" She left the question hanging, and Katniss felt uneasy.

"No, we agreed...I mean, after last time, it just...He knows why I can't. And he agrees," she explained quietly, but even as she talked, she felt a more acute dread filling her. She and Peeta had talked a handful of times about the impossibility of having children and bringing them up in this world; she knew they were on the same page about that.

But she knew how much hurt it had caused her the last time she aborted her—their—baby. And she knew how hurt he had been, even if he refused to say it.

And now she had to do it again? What sick joke was this? How many times would she have to be punished for her transgressions in the past? Swallowing a whimper, Katniss closed her eyes against the prickling tears.

"How far along are you?" her mother asked, and Katniss' eyes fluttered open, blinking away the water.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "We were careful. I didn't even realize...I haven't had any symptoms, not like last time. I haven't been sick. I don't know how long it's been since my period...but at least a couple months. Three, maybe."

A veil of worry clouded her mother's eyes, but she moved toward the hutch. "Do you want me to make you the tea again? It's not guaranteed to work."

Katniss nodded, dazed, and watched her mother pull out the blue and black cohosh and the other supplies. But as she went about preparing the tea, Katniss got a sinking feeling in her stomach, panic starting to squeeze her heart.

"Wait," she blurted, her mother stilling her actions. "I should—I need to tell Peeta first. I can't—it wouldn't be fair to do it before he knows. Right?"

Her mother just nodded, but her forehead wrinkled in consternation. "It's up to you. But we can't wait much longer if you want to abort. It gets less and less likely with each week."

Katniss released a heavy breath she was holding, swiping at an errant tear. "I'll tell him tonight," she whispered, and as she moved to leave, her mother surprised her by pulling her into a hug. Although their relationship had improved over the years, Katniss was still caught off guard by this display of affection. She stood stiffly in her mother's embrace for a moment before the comforting strokes of her hand on her head relaxed her, and she buried her face against her shoulder.

"It's going to be okay, Katniss," her mother said, feeling the slight trembling in her daughter's limbs.

But all Katniss could think was:  _You don't know that._

* * *

Katniss sat on the couch in their living room as she waited for Peeta to return from the school. She'd managed to gnaw her fingernails down to jagged, tender stubs as her anxiety mounted. She couldn't think about the thing, the life, growing inside her at that moment; it was too real. All she could focus on was informing Peeta about the abstract concept of the life inside her. Then it would be real. And then she could really let the panic set in. But right now it was taking everything in her to keep it at bay so she could manage as calm a conversation with Peeta as possible.

She knew they were on the same page when it came to having children in District 12, in this environment. At least, she thought they were. Her past experience with Gale made her wary now. And even if Peeta agreed with her decision, she still knew it would hurt him.

It hurt her, too, if she was honest with herself, but she couldn't afford to think like that. Not now.

She jumped when she heard the door open, and she shot to her feet and spun around to face Peeta as he shuffled inside, shooting her a smile in greeting.

"Hey."

"I need to talk to you," she blurted, and he pulled back apprehensively.

"Uh oh," he joked nervously. "That's never a sentence you want to hear." His face hardened suddenly, alarm sharpening an edge to his voice. "Wait—is it my mom? Did she do something again?"

Katniss shook her head. "No. Sit down," she said quietly, gesturing to the couch. Confused, Peeta circled around the sofa and sat down. Stiffly, she sat back down beside him, avoiding his eyes as she summoned her courage. She could feel her heart thumping against her rib cage then, her pulse spiking in sheer nervousness. Her hand twitched on the couch, her nails scratching at the rough fibers of the upholstery fabric, and she took a deep breath before swallowing the lump in her throat. "I—" she croaked and swallowed again to force the words out. "I went to my mom's today. I—I'm pregnant."

For a second, she wasn't sure he heard her; his expression didn't change, his eyes still clouded with confusion and apprehension. Finally, he blinked. "What?" he breathed, as if he were exhaling the life out of his lungs.

"I'm—"

"Pregnant?" he repeated incredulously, and on the last syllable his expression broke, a flicker of excitement lighting his blue eyes and upturning the corners of his mouth, just barely. Her breath caught in her throat; it was what she feared.

But just like that, his face dropped. His whole body seemed to sag in that moment. "Oh." A beat passed, and then he repeated himself uselessly. "Oh." She wanted to reach out to him, grab his hand, but she was afraid. Afraid that she had disappointed and hurt him yet again. She didn't know how he was going to react.

Another tense moment passed before he asked, "Did you..." The words seemed to stick in his throat, and he cleared it a few times. He was getting choked up, she could tell, but trying not to show it. Sadly, she pursed her lips together and shook her head.

"No, not yet," she said, her voice wobbling. "I thought...I wanted to tell you before..."

He took another deep breath and began to nod absently, though she wasn't sure if he was even aware why he was nodding. She wasn't sure herself. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose and shakily released the breath he was holding. "Um...h-how? We've been careful, right?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I thought so. I don't know. Maybe the condom is too old now," she suggested wanly.

"Dammit," he whispered, his voice muffled by his hand. "Dammit. This— _fuck_ , this sucks. This is bullshit," he swore, his voice rising as he suddenly stood up. Katniss stared at him speechlessly, her eyes wide. Peeta shook his head, tugging at his hair. "Sorry—I'm not mad at  _you_. I'm just...I'm mad. I'm mad at this situation, at all of this," he gritted out, gesturing wildly around them. "That we're forced to live like this! It's fucked up! How can anyone live like this?"

He was right. She understood his anger, but she couldn't help him.

Peeta sighed raggedly, rubbing at his eyes. "I just...I'm sorry. I understand what you have to do. I just...I need to be angry for a moment. Alone."

He didn't wait for a response, storming past her out of the living room. A second later, she heard their bedroom door slam shut. The sound stung. She knew he'd be upset, but she didn't anticipate his anger. It was hard not to take it personally.

He didn't come out of the bedroom for hours, and Katniss was too afraid and stubborn to venture after him. So she stayed put, curling up on the couch and eventually dozing off despite the worried frenzy consuming her thoughts.

She was awoken sometime in the middle of the night by Peeta softly stroking her hair. Blearily, she stared up at him over the back of the couch, furrowing her brow at the concerned, remorseful look on his face. His eyes were red-rimmed, too.

"You didn't come to bed," he whispered, pulling his hand back to brace himself against the couch. She frowned.

"You said you wanted to be alone," she said hoarsely, fighting the urge to pout.

He sighed, dipping his head slightly before looking back at her. "Sorry. I know this is hard for you, too." She looked away, and he brushed some hair out of her face. "Come to bed, okay?"

She chewed her lip for a moment before relenting, pushing herself up. To her surprise, Peeta leaned over the back of the couch and pulled her up to hoist her into his arms. She clung to his shoulders, burrowing her face against his neck while he carried her into the bedroom. He helped her undress, his movements tender, then they climbed in together under the covers. Reflexively, she curled up against him, feeling immediate relief when he wrapped his arms around her. They were silent for a while.

"Sorry," she mumbled against his chest, her fingers teasing the soft blonde hairs there, but Peeta shook his head.

"Don't. I understand. It's...what I want, too."

It wasn't entirely true, Katniss knew that, but she didn't push it. They said nothing more, and after some time, they drifted off to sleep, where she dreamed of meadows and lakes and children and somewhere they could be safe, finally.

* * *

The next morning, Katniss left their house early. Her trek took her to the Seam, but instead of stopping at her mother's, she kept walking until she reached the edge of the district demarcated by the fence separating them from the woods. She easily slipped under it and began her familiar hike through the trees. She wasn't really cognizant of where she was going; she just let her feet take her, one in front of the other. Her mind was a haze—not even a flurry of thoughts and anxieties. Just a haze.

Soon, she found herself at the tree where she normally stored her bow and arrow. But she didn't pull it out; instead, she found a nearby tree, one sturdy enough for her weight and easily scalable, and she lifted herself onto the trunk, carefully but stealthily climbing until she was perched high on a branch, obscured by leaves.

She didn't know what she was doing. Hiding, most likely, as if camouflaging herself in these trees could somehow shield her from the tough decision that awaited her. She knew she couldn't idle too long; her time frame for taking the tea successfully was shrinking by the minute. Still, she couldn't bring herself to climb back down. Shifting her position, she firmly pressed her back against the tree and, once she felt stable, pulled her knees up to cradle them against her chest.

She thought a lot about Peeta. Her indignation at his anger. But if she pushed past that wounded feeling...and the terror of her—their—predicament...she could feel the anger, too. Barely there, a tiny, electromagnetic pulse buzzing under layers of denial and self-preservation. He was right, in a way. It was bullshit that they had to live like this, in constant fear under the heel of the Capitol's boot. It wasn't fair for her, for Peeta, for anyone.

But she couldn't change that. Even if she could, would she still want a baby?

The answer to that question was harder to parse, one she hadn't really pondered before. What was the point? As long as the reapings still happened, as long as the risk of sending her child off to the games was even a remote possibility, the idea of having this baby was unthinkable. Off the table.

But now she forced herself to actually think about it, to consider having children in a world devoid of the games. Would she? Could she do it? If there was a place they could be safe?

If it were with Peeta...

Katniss spent the next few hours debating the possibilities, her mind churning. As the day wore on, she couldn't even feel the hunger gnawing at her stomach—something else formed there, sprouting slowly at first then faster, taking root in her chest, in her bones. It solidified, making her blood course and her heart beat hard, strong.

Abruptly, she glanced at the sun to gauge the time: mid-afternoon—she would have to hurry. With her limbs shaking, she scrambled down the tree, barely fazed when she lost her footing and clumsily slid the last few feet to the ground. She ignored the scrapes on her hands as she took off for town, running carefully enough to avoid tripping or running into branches. She wasn't sure she'd get there in time…

She was exhausted by the time she made it back to the Seam, but she didn't stop running until she reached the school on the other side of town. She didn't even care how crazy she must seem to the townspeople she passed, her thoughts solely on Peeta. By the time she reached the school, a cramp forced her to slow down. There were no kids meandering the yard or filing out of the building, so she finally stopped to lean against the fence and catch her breath.

And wait.

Finally, when she heard the bell sound in the distance, and the first students came piling out, she wedged her foot in one of the panels to lift herself off the ground so she could see over their heads. Her eyes scanned the crowd, sticking close to the entrance. All she saw for the next half hour were kids, only a few teachers peppered through the crowd, but no Peeta.

So she continued to wait, unaware of how much time had passed by the time he finally emerged from the building. Her heart shot into her throat at the sight of him, his blonde hair and beard glinting in the late afternoon sun. Jumping down from the fence, she jogged around it to the opening and stopped when he finally spotted her. He wavered in his trek, pausing momentarily in confusion; she could discern the familiar crease in his brown even from a distance. But then he resumed his direction, walking up to her.

"Katniss, what are you doing here? Is everything all right?" he asked, and just as she saw the spark of alarm ignite in his irises, she blurted out the question she came to ask him.

"If I asked you to run away with me, would you?"

"Yes," he replied automatically, no hesitation or forethought, and her stomach filled with warmth at just how willing he was to throw his lot in with hers, no questions asked. But then he shook his head, laughing lightly in disbelief. "Wait, why are you asking me that? What are you talking about?"

Here it was. The moment of truth. Excitement and nervousness and fear spiked all at once, bottoming out in her stomach and swelling in her throat, and she swallowed past it, clinging to those shreds of certainty and hope she'd found in the woods.

"Because we can't raise our child here in District 12."

Peeta stared at her uncomprehendingly, and she waited for the words to sink, apprehensive yet hopeful of his response. Finally, he blinked a few times, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I don't...what?"

"We have to get out of this place. I can't have this baby here, not like this," she said, dropping her voice and stepping closer to him. His eyes widened then, the full weight of what she was saying hitting him.

"You're going to keep it?" he asked, a precarious delicateness to his voice, as if he were afraid to consider it. "I mean, you  _want_ to keep the baby?" Katniss nodded her head, her eyes locked with his, and as the excitement blossomed in his eyes, a slow smile spread across her face. "Really?" he pressed in disbelief, and she nodded again, her smile morphing into a grin when he started laughing and pulled her into a hug. "Katniss, I can't believe..."

She squirmed in his embrace, pushing on his chest slightly so she could look him in the face. "But we can't do it here, Peeta. We have to run. Into the woods," she said urgently, glancing around them to make sure no one else was walking by.

He paused, his face falling slightly. "Where to, though? Where would we go? I'm not good in the woods—"

"There's an old house out there, a couple hours away from here or so. By a lake. My dad showed it to me before he died. No one else knows about it. We can go there. We can fix it up. We can have our baby there, and we can raise it without the reaping. We can have a normal life, Peeta," she said, hope lifting her voice. The more she talked about it, the more excited she got. They could do this. They could actually do this...

She held her breath as he stared at her, waiting for his response. After a moment, he nodded resolutely. "Okay. Let's do this. Let's run away from here."

She fisted her hands in his shirt tightly. "Are you sure? You'd have to leave this behind," she implored, her eyes darting over his shoulder at the school. "And your family. Could you do that?"

His face fell, doubt softening his eyes, and she pursed her lips to brace herself; this was the catch, of course. Expecting him to abandon his life like this…

"I..." Peeta started, but his voice caught and he trailed off for a moment, his eyes glazing over as he gazed back at the school. Finally, he shook his head. "They'll find another teacher. And my family...you're my family. And they've made it clear they aren't willing to accept you into their lives. So to hell with them," he said, his voice firm and brimming with resentment. "Are you willing to leave your family behind?"

Katniss swallowed thickly; it was something she'd already asked herself, a proposition she'd already considered for hours in the woods. It was still hard to answer, though she felt confident in her resolution. "Yes. Prim's grown up now, she has her own family. She doesn't need me anymore. Neither does my mom. I think...I think it's time I start worrying about myself."

She felt as resolute as ever looking at him then, his eyes gleaming with happiness and awe. He pulled her into a fierce hug, cradling her head against his chest. "Okay," he breathed. "So let's do this."

* * *

They spent all night working out the details of their plan, discussing the logistics. That weekend, Katniss would take Peeta to the lake to show him the cabin. They would spend the next few months fixing it up, gradually and inconspicuously taking the items and provisions they would need to survive. Katniss would do most of the work, as she could get in and out of the woods more easily with less suspicion, but Peeta would move larger items, like bags of flour, under the cover of early dawn. They would have to work relatively fast, before Katniss started to show in her pregnancy; she could hide it for a while with bulky clothes, but by summer, the oppressive heat would eventually force her hand, so they would have to be gone by that point.

The main problem would be disappearing without raising too many questions. If she had been any other person from the Seam, she could probably effortlessly slip under the district officials' radars. But as one of the main hunters and traders in the Hob, her disappearance would most be noticed. And as a Merchant and school teacher, Peeta's would be, too. He insisted he could easily be replaced at his job, though, as tough as it would be to leave his students; there was always someone clamoring for a job at the school, and the summer breaks provided a perfect opportunity to tender his resignation. Katniss was sure she could bribe a peacekeeper to overlook their disappearance, though. They weren't of Reaping age, and they weren't really anyone of importance in the district. The Capitol didn't care about the people in District 12, and she knew people in the Seam died all the time with zero fanfare from officials, but actually running away...she wasn't sure that wouldn't draw more than a few cursory inquiries their way.

She had a rapport with the peacekeepers, however, especially Darius, who'd replaced Old Cray as the head peacekeeper. She would talk to him, give him as much money as she could spare, maybe even promise to discreetly return with fresh meat for him once in a while. It was a long shot, and Peeta wasn't entirely convinced, but she felt confident Darius wouldn't turn them in. He wasn't like the others.

She would tell her mother and sister where she was going, of course. She couldn't disappear on them without a trace. She was sure she would return occasionally to town for necessities when she and Peeta ran out, and she would ask her mother to purchase them for her. And, more than anything, she would need her mother's assistance during her pregnancy and especially during the birth; she couldn't do that alone in the woods. What if something went wrong with the baby?

That left one question, really—whether Peeta would tell his family where he was going. When Katniss asked him, he was silent for a while as he mulled it over.

"I don't know," he finally said, his voice quiet. There was an undercurrent of anger there. "I don't think so. I'll say my peace with them before we go, I guess, but...I don't think they'll really care if I never come around again. Dad, maybe, but he never comes to see me. So I think my disappearance won't really matter to them."

Katniss' heart ached listening to his words, hearing the pain that laced his words. She reached her hand out to cup his cheek, stroking his beard with her thumb. She didn't know what to say to make any of it better, so she said the only thing she could. "I love you."

He smiled wanly at her, covering her hand with his own and giving it a squeeze. "That's all that matters, honestly. That's all I want," he said, but with his other hand he touched her stomach. "A life and a family with you."

 _Family_. The thought both terrified and thrilled her now. As confident as she felt with their plan, she couldn't be fully certain it would work out. But she knew if there was anyone she was willing to try it with, it was Peeta.

That night, their sex was both desperate yet subdued, their bodies folding into each other with the familiar ease and newfound excitement they felt each time. But this time was different; it was their first coupling sans barrier. It was unnecessary now. Katniss could feel every inch of his cock inside her, in and out, his bare flesh easily, deliciously sliding against her walls with the aid of her arousal. She hadn't even come yet, and she was soaking wet—she didn't know if it was the hormones from the pregnancy or just the thrill of their plan, their future.

Peeta stopped his thrusting to move his head between her legs, his mouth descending on her to lap up her wetness and make her come with the persistent pressure of his tongue on her clit. Once he was certain she was sated, he pushed his cock into her again and resumed his slow, torturous movements. Katniss lay under him, completely open to him; her wrists were pinned above her head in the clutches of his hands, his body arching high over hers as he fucked her at the angle he knew she loved. Her moans were low and throaty, her body still quivering from her orgasm, and she pulled her knees to her chest, cradling his hips against hers. She lifted her pelvis to his every time he thrusted forward, grinding against him and clenching his cock inside her. Peeta was breathing hard, his muscles strained and flexing as he held himself over her; his eyes never left her face, even when he came a few minutes later. Her pussy milked his cum out of him, his shaft pulsing against her walls, and she pushed herself up on her elbows to kiss him fiercely.

It was a promise.

When Peeta held her after, their heartbeats and breathing synced, he whispered, "This is going to work." He might have meant to reassure himself, but she believed him.

* * *

Telling her mother and sister about their plan was harder than Katniss anticipated. Her mother was immediately worried, especially about the baby.

"You can't have that baby out there alone," she fretted, her hands twisting the dishcloth in her hands. Katniss chewed the corner of her mouth worriedly.

"I know," she agreed. "That's why I was hoping I could convince you to come out to the cabin when it's time...to deliver my baby, and stay with us a few days to help us adjust."

She expected pushback—her mother had clients to consider, and the hike to the lake was demanding—but to her surprise, she agreed readily.

"I'll come out a few weeks before your due date, just in case you go into early labor. Prim can take over any clients I have," she said firmly. Katniss smiled gratefully, crossing the kitchen to her mother and reaching for her hand to squeeze it.

"Thank you."

Prim wasn't as easy to placate as her mother was; her initial shock quickly dissolved to resistance and distress.

"What do you mean, you're leaving? How can you just leave?" she demanded, her voice rising in the quietness of her quaint house; she and Katniss were alone, but still Katniss hushed her worriedly.

"I have to, Prim. I'm pregnant. And I'm not raising this baby here," she said softly but resolutely, rendering her sister speechless. Her blue eyes went wide at the news.

"Pregnant?" she whispered, moving closer. "Oh, Katniss—"

Katniss allowed her to pull her into a hug, dutifully acquiescing to her baby sister's fawning and requisite fussing for a moment before pulling away to continue the discussion. "I've already worked out with Peeta how we're going to do this. You can't tell anyone, okay? His family won't even know."

Blinking in disbelief, Prim stared at her silently for a moment as she tried to digest. Then began the barrage of questions. "Where are you going to live?" "How are you going to have the baby by yourself?" "But what about me? Will I see you again?"

The last question was delivered brimming with tears. Katniss hadn't heard her sister's voice sound so small since she was 12 years old, at her first Reaping. For a moment, she was breathless, feeling the familiar pull to protect her little sister, the fierce need to take care of her. Her resolve almost crumbled.

But Prim wasn't 12 anymore. She was 28, and she had a husband and a daughter. Even at four years her junior, she'd proven she could take even better care of herself than Katniss could look after herself.

"I'll come back around when I can. When it's safe, when I won't draw attention to myself," she told Prim. "But...I need to look out for what's best for my family now. I don't plan on coming back to 12 often."

Prim's eyes watered, but she nodded. "I understand," she said, her eyes drifting to a framed photo of her daughter that hung on the wall. After a moment, she cleared her throat and blinked away the tears. "Tell me how you're going to do this. I want to know everything."

At her sister's words, Katniss felt relief and immense, bittersweet sadness. She would miss Prim the most. But she reminded herself that it wasn't final—she would see her sister as much as she feasibly could. And it was for the best reason she could imagine.

Her own child.

* * *

The bag of coins felt heavy in her hand, larger than its small size conveyed, as she stalked toward Darius' house. It was the same place Cray used to live, before he was reassigned. Or killed. No one was entirely sure exactly where he went or what happened to him a few years ago. They were just relieved Darius was promoted; he was one of the younger peacekeepers, as well as the friendliest and most lax. And he didn't have a proclivity for young, impoverished Seam girls.

Katniss had spent a few weeks saving and scrounging what money she could to persuade Darius to play along with her and Peeta's plan. She didn't know how much it would take to buy him off, but she didn't want to inadvertently insult him with too little—or, hell, even too much. It was a delicate situation, and she knew she was walking a thin line, but she was still hopeful he'd agree, however reluctantly. A little money would sweeten the deal for him, she was sure. No one in District 12, not even peacekeepers, could afford to refuse money.

Stopping outside the door, she knocked, three sharp, purposeful knocks, her usual. When the door swung open a moment later, she was greeted by a mop of red hair and a crooked, pleasant smile.

"Hey, Everdeen, what'cha got for me today?" he asked in his normal, cordial tone.

"A proposition of sorts, actually," she replied. His brow furrowed in confusion. "Can we talk?"

"Sure," he agreed, but she took a couple steps back from his doorstep, glancing around to make sure no one else was in the immediate area. She didn't know what kind of Capitol devices he had in his home as a peacekeeper; it was best not to risk being recorded or eavesdropped on.

Puzzled, Darius hesitated in his doorway before stepping out to join her. "Okay. What's going on?"

She sucked in a deep, steadying breath before shoving the bag of coins at him. "This is for you." He just stared at it, so she continued, "I wanted to let you know that in a few months' time, I'm taking off for the woods. With Peeta. We're not planning to come back. And I'm hoping you'll help by not coming looking for us. Just—turn the other way and don't raise any questions about it."

His gaze was sharp, questioning and uneasy as he turned it on her, his mouth thinning into a hard line. She wasn't sure what to make of his expression, so she went for the kill. "I'm pregnant. And I want to raise my baby somewhere safe. I can't stay here."

His face softened at that, and she waited for him to respond, holding his stare determinedly, so he would understand how serious she was. Finally, he sighed. "You're asking me...to just pretend like it doesn't matter when a citizen disappears?"

She shrugged. "Seam people die all the time. The district doesn't care—it's us burying our own people, and no one in town notices. They'll just assume the same about me, I'm sure."

"You're a little more important than that, Katniss. You provide a lot of fresh meat around here."

"There are more hunters now. Someone new will fill my absence."

"Peeta's not Seam though. Townies will definitely notice when a Merchant goes missing."

"They've pretty much written him off already just for associating with me. They'll forget about it after a while. His family, too."

Darius looked doubtful. "What if they come around asking me to look for him?"

She just shook her head resolutely. "They won't. Trust me."

Darius was quiet for another moment longer as he observed her; he looked torn. She presented the money to him again, her face encouraging, and he relented with a sigh as he reluctantly took the money. "Okay. I guess I'll help."

"Thank you, really," she said sincerely, relief melting her bones. The skin between his eyes pinched together in consternation.

"Where will you go exactly?"

While she liked Darius, and even trusted him to an extent, she wasn't about to divulge their exact destination, just in case. She shook her head. "Just somewhere in the woods away from here. Somewhere safer than this place."

She began to walk away, but he called after her. When she turned around, he smiled sadly at her. "You'll be missed, you know that?"

She wasn't so sure about that, but she just smiled half-heartedly at him and waved her farewell, continuing her walk back home.

* * *

Over the next few months, Katniss and Peeta began their gradual move to the cabin in the woods. After her mother assessed her, they determined she was due in November, October at the earliest, so they had the summer months to fix the cabin and transport their necessary belongings. Luckily, Peeta had finished the school year and officially resigned from his position, so the two of them could work together to get their move executed as quickly as possible, before she began to show.

The first time she showed him the cabin, he was put off by the distance and just how long it took to get to the lake. But once he saw the area, the surrounding woods and still, shimmering water, he was in awe. "This is home," he finally surmised after a moment, soliciting the widest grin from her.

As soon as she brought him into the cabin, they began drafting ideas for how to spruce it up, what they needed to bring. Furniture was going to be impossible to lug all the way from town, so they would have to build it themselves. It was a daunting task, but Peeta was adamant he could take it on.

"I'll learn. I'm sure there's someone around town or the Seam I can pay for some lessons before we leave," he insisted when she expressed uncertainty.

The two of them made their trips in the secrecy of the predawn hours, after the miners had gone to work, but before the rest of the district had awoken for their daily rituals; this way they could move supplies without question. When they returned later in the morning or afternoon, Katniss would return with game or whatever produce they found along the way, just to diffuse any suspicion about their comings and goings.

By the middle of summer, the cabin was mostly refurbished and well-stocked. The treks were becoming increasingly exhausting for Katniss, who by that point had to struggle along under thick jackets and ponchos. Sometimes, Peeta made the trips alone, when she was feeling particularly sluggish and tired. Her pregnancy was relatively easy despite the occasional bouts of sickness, but every now and then, she awoke in the middle of the night from a crippling nightmare where her son or daughter was reaped.

In those moments, once she'd been able to pull herself out of the riptide of terror with Peeta's reassurance, she was even more resolved and sure about their decision.

The night before they were to set out for the cabin for good, after Katniss and Peeta had spent hours at her mother's house soaking up some of the last moments she would have with her and Prim, at least for a while, the two of them sat at the dining table in silence. A solitary candle flickered and sizzled between them, casting shadows over their joined hands. She stroked the soft skin of his thumb with her own, watching his face. His eyes were trained on their hands, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

After a while, she eventually spoke. "Did you ever say goodbye to your family?" Her voice was soft, not wanting to disrupt the tenderness of the moment. But she could guess what was weighing on him right then.

He slowly shook his head, pursing his lips together slightly. "Not officially. I stopped by Rye's and Barm's to see them and my nephews. And then I spoke to my father. Told him this would probably be the last time I saw them. I assume he told my mom. Maybe not."

"Did he ask why?"

"No. I think he understands he doesn't have a right to know anymore."

Katniss squeezed his hand. "Are you sure you don't want to tell them? We can hold off leaving one more day…"

But Peeta shook his head again, finally lifting his eyes to her. "I'm ready to leave this place, Katniss. I'm ready to leave this life behind. I cannot wait to start a new life with you, and our child, and I want to do that as soon as possible, as far away as we can get from here," he said firmly, but his words were saturated with a warmth that soothed her.

She smiled at him, his assurance igniting a newfound excitement in her. "I can't wait either."

He smiled, his lips quirking into a barely contained grin. "Good, because we're kind of committed to this plan now," he said, breaking off into a laugh. She joined him, the sweet sound effusing the room like the soft candlelight.

She wasn't sure either of them slept that night, tossing and turning restlessly with excitement, slowly sinking into each other with eager hands and pleasured sighs to pass the time and ease their nerves. Dawn couldn't come fast enough, and both of them were out of bed when the first call of the waking birds came. They quickly dressed and grabbed their remaining belongings they planned to take with them to the cabin. Once they were out the door, the first rays of sun just barely illuminating the town, they said a silent goodbye to their house with one lingering look, and then they set off for the edge of the Seam. There wasn't much chance of running into any other citizens; still, they pulled their hoods up to prevent any identification should they.

It proved unnecessary, though, as they sidled up to the fence with no incident. As Katniss bent down to crawl under the fence, Peeta stopped her, pulling her straight up again. She looked at him curiously, but he just kissed her sweetly, squeezing her shoulder and brushing the crown of her head. "I love you," he whispered, and she knew he was nervous, but she had never felt so innervated.

"We're just hours away from our new life," she said, her voice hushed, but her words did the trick. With a smile, he leaned down and wedged the fence out of the way so she could slide under more easily, her expanding belly making it increasingly difficult. Peeta crawled through after her, and after they helped each other to their feet, they set off into the woods.

Walking into their cabin, hours later, was as invigorating and refreshing as if Katniss had stepped into the cool water of the lake outside, despite the numerous times they'd already been in there. Peeta must have felt the same way because his hand reached for hers at the exact moment hers sought out his, and they both gave each other a firm squeeze before making eye contact. Excitement danced in his blue irises as he spoke his next words.

"Welcome home."

* * *

Adjusting to life in the cabin was hard at first, namely because the adrenaline and fear of being discovered or tracked down kept them on edge the first few days. It was weird not waking up to the daily routine she'd had for years—hunting, trading, making condoms, bartering in the Hob—or interacting with the minimal friends she'd managed to make and keep. She knew it was harder for Peeta, acclimating to a life out in the wild; he was a social person by nature, and she worried he'd get sick of her soon enough if she was the only human interaction he had day in and day out; she could sense his anxiety after a while, so eventually she rounded up berries and other materials to make him color mixtures. He took up painting and drawing to keep himself occupied in his downtime, when he wasn't helping her finish up the cabin and building furniture.

Gradually, he relaxed, grew more at ease in their new surroundings, and she did as well. Every day the paranoia of Peacekeepers busting into their cabin at any moment, or a hovercraft descending on the lake, eased. She could direct her attention and energy to finishing out her pregnancy and keeping the three of them fed and healthy.

She was due in October or November sometime, the best her mother could figure. They'd made a plan to bring her out to the cabin the end of September just to be safe.

But she didn't anticipate the painful contractions that woke her up one night. She'd had some lesser, negligible contractions during her pregnancy, nothing to worry about, her mother assured her, but these were stronger. She laid in bed a while, breathing deeply and trying to suffer through them in silence; she wasn't ready, they weren't ready. She couldn't do this without her mother.

When the contractions hadn't stopped a couple hours, by dawn, she finally shook Peeta awake. "Peeta," she whispered fearfully; the sound of her voice stirred him immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asked groggily.

"I—I think I might be in labor. I don't know."

Alarm flashed across his face, visible even in the dark. "What? Are you sure?"

"I'm having contractions, and they hurt worse than any before. They haven't stopped." Katniss' mind raced. "You need to go get my mother."

His eyebrows shot up just as he sat up in bed. "What?  _Now_? I can't—I can't just leave you out here in the woods while you're in labor—it'll take hours to get back!"

Katniss inhaled deeply through her nose as she felt another contraction hit, clenching her jaw tightly as she exhaled. Maybe it was her mother's natural healer instincts kicking in—but suddenly she felt calm, clear-headed. "It'll be okay. Labor takes hours, especially the first time. It could be days even. You have to get her though. I can't do this without her. Neither of us can."

Peeta looked conflicted, less than convinced. "But what if something happens? What if something goes wrong and you're alone?"

She looked him firmly in the eye. "Then you need to leave right now. And hurry."

Groaning in resigned frustration, Peeta leapt out of bed and hastily got dressed. Before he left the cabin, he grabbed her hand between his and squeezed it. "Please, just hold on till we get back? I can't miss this. I can't let anything happen to you."

She smiled at him. "I'll be here waiting," she joked weakly and pulled him in for a kiss, and then he was gone, practically sprinting out the door.

Without him there, she could feel the terror bubbling just beneath her calm exterior, but she focused her energy on breathing deeply, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth when the contractions would hit.

To her confusion, the contractions began to subside, growing lesser and farther apart, and after another couple hours they stopped entirely. She waited another hour after her last contraction before she finally accepted she wasn't actually in labor. She felt relieved but embarrassed that she'd sent Peeta off for nothing, and now her mother was going to have to trek through the woods for hours for nothing.

Now she had a new fear for their safety—her mother had never made the trip out to the cabin. What if something happened, or a peacekeeper caught them?

Katniss spent the rest of the morning pacing and cleaning the cabin, gorging on rolls and apples and leftover stew just to distract herself. The moment she heard the door open, she stood up out of the dining chair as fast as her rounded belly would let her—but it wasn't as quickly as Peeta, who was on her in an instant.

"Katniss! Are you okay? Your mother's here—is the baby coming? Do you need to start pushing?"

His questions were all one string of words, and he had such a frantic, manic look in his eyes, his cheeks flushed from the exertion and, likely, excitement, she couldn't help but laugh.

"No, I—it was a false alarm," she said sheepishly, her eyes darting to her mother as she rushed through the open door at that moment. "I'm sorry. I thought I was in labor. The contractions hurt worse than before, but they stopped. I'm sorry I made you come all the way out—"

"It's fine," her mother interrupted. She already looked less harried than she did a second ago, and she sighed in relief, setting her supplies down.. "I'm here now, so I'll just stay until the baby comes. You're this far along, so those contractions could mean the real thing is coming. It doesn't make sense to leave when you could go into labor at any moment now."

"Thanks, mom," Katniss said, smiling gratefully, and she turned back to Peeta, who had slumped down in a chair, bent over the table. She bit down on her lip. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Sighing, he lifted his head up to look at her and shook his head. "I'm just glad I didn't miss it."

* * *

Her mother's prediction turned out to be true. Within a few days, Katniss went into labor. The trickling liquid between her thighs from her ruptured amniotic sac accompanying the intense contractions made it apparent almost immediately that this wasn't another false alarm.

Her labor continued well into the night and early the next morning, Katniss writhing in pain as her mother continuously monitored for when she could start pushing. Peeta either lay beside her, squeezing her hand or stroking her sweaty forehead in encouragement and comfort, or raced around the cabin to get her and her mother whatever they needed.

Finally, her mother gave her the go-ahead to start pushing, and after what could have been a few minutes or a lifetime of grunts and cries and the most excruciating pain she'd ever felt, Mrs. Everdeen was cradling a squalling tiny pink baby in her arms. She looked at Katniss and Peeta, her eyes shining, and she gasped happily, "It's a girl."

Katniss was in a daze, barely registering the choked sob from Peeta beside her. The pain, and accompanying ecstasy that rushed in to fill the space once the immediate pain left, left her in a dreamlike state, and all she could do was stare at the tiny mass of limbs and black tufts of hair while her mother hastily cut the umbilical cord and cleaned her off. Peeta kissed her temple, and she blindly groped for his arm, too afraid to take her eyes off their daughter.

"Peeta," she croaked out weakly as her mother brought the baby back to them. "We—we have a daughter. She's here." Mrs. Everdeen gently placed her on Katniss' chest, instructing her how to hold the baby, and both Katniss and Peeta stared at her in awe. "She's beautiful."

Peeta laughed softly, the sound thick with tears, and he ever so tenderly palmed their daughter's head. "I guess we did pretty good."

"What should we name her?" Katniss asked quietly, staring into the deep blue eyes that peered up at her, somehow both wide with wonderment and squinted with disgruntlement. Katniss wanted to weep from joy and exhaustion.

Peeta gazed at their daughter, trailing his fingers very delicately over her features and down her arm to touch her wrinkly fingers. "What about Wren, like we talked about?" he suggested, referencing one of the names they'd volleyed around when they'd first started discussing names.

Katniss considered it, silently rolling the name around on her tongue. Then she smiled, her eyes beginning to water. "Welcome home, Wren," she whispered. "You're safe now."

* * *

Mrs. Everdeen stayed with them for a few weeks, helping Katniss and Peeta adjust to being parents and making sure there were no complications with her daughter or granddaughter. It took a while for Katniss to heal, but luckily they had stocked up on enough meat prior to her labor that they had enough to last them for a while, until she was cleared for hunting again. And they weren't in danger of running out of flour anytime soon, so Peeta was content to bake as much bread and treats as Katniss desired. And with Wren breastfeeding, Katniss desired a lot.

Once Mrs. Everdeen determined Katniss and baby Wren would be fine without her assistance, Peeta helped her get back to the Seam; she needed to get back before the first snow of the season, which would make traversing the woods more treacherous for two inexperienced trackers as themselves.

The first few months of Wren's life were hard, mainly on Katniss and Peeta. In addition to the sleepless nights and the demands of a fussy newborn, there was the lingering fear of being found and punished, of having their baby ripped away from them by the Capitol, that still permeated their existences. But every day it felt less and less likely that someone would find them, and when winter finally hit, shrouding them in mountains of snow and a sense of security, they could relax.

Katniss began hunting again in the winter, tracking down the few animals not in hibernation to keep them fed through the coming months. They were grateful for Wren's mostly good health so they didn't have to go back to Twelve for a while, until spring arrived, and one of them would covertly visit her mother to pick up any food or supplies she had procured for them. Peeta continued to bake and build whatever new furnishings they needed, especially with the baby. Taking care of a child alone in the woods was complicated and tenuous, but Katniss had learned how to do it with Prim, and with a lot less to work with, so she, Peeta and Wren made do.

Overall, it was a content life, filled with countless moments of happiness and dwindling days of fear and worry. Years passed, and Wren grew older. She was a healthy, happy child, with long raven locks and big blue eyes. She loved singing with her mother and fingerpainting with her father. When she was 4, Katniss began to teach her how to hunt, taking her out in the woods on her regular excursions to procure fresh game or harvest vegetables and fruits. She didn't take Wren anywhere near District 12, however, just to be safe. Anytime she or Peeta made the trip to Twelve for provisions, and Wren got pouty, demanding where they'd been, they'd just tell her they had to go somewhere that wasn't safe for little girls like her to go.

* * *

It was a late fall day when it happened. Katniss set out early in the morning to make the trek into Twelve, to pick up some routine medical supplies from her mother. She was lost in her thoughts about Wren and Peeta, who were back at the cabin, probably beginning the process of making an elaborate lunch for them to share once she returned, that she almost missed the telltale sign: a barely perceptible humming.

Yanking her hands back from the fence, Katniss froze as she stared at the fence. It was a sound she hadn't heard in years; the electricity had been turned on. Startled, she darted behind a nearby tree to hide, just in case any peacekeepers were nearby. She clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle her labored breathing. Were they looking for her? Did they suspect she and Peeta were out in the woods? Had they found them out?

She waited for the shaking to subside, trying to force her brain to think logically. It had been years; surely, they weren't looking for them now. It wasn't that unusual for them to turn the fence on, every once in a while; she remembered it happening a handful of times during her hunting days in District 12. She just didn't cross through the fence as much these days. It was possible that the fence came on periodically, that this wasn't the first time in a while.

Still, she wouldn't feel safe until she got back to the cabin, so she hastily jogged back home. Once she was back, she tried not to alarm Wren, pulling Peeta into another room when he looked at her with questioning eyes.

"They turned the electricity back onto the fence," she whispered. His eyes went wide before narrowing in confusion.

"What do you think that means?"

She shook her head. "I'm not really sure. It's probably nothing, but...I'll wait a few days before trying to go back into the district again, just to be safe. I'm sure it'll be off by that point."

It wasn't. And it was still on the week after that, and the week after that. Months passed, and they had to bear the hardships of winter with no access to ancillary supplies from the district. When Wren got sick, Katniss had to do her best to pull together the herbs she could remember from her mom to concoct some kind of remedy. Luckily, it worked, but there was a renewed undercurrent of fear now, about what would happen if the electricity never turned back off and they were in desperate need of supplies. Katniss worried about her mother and Prim, as well, wondering what could have provoked the need for around-the-clock security.

But, out in the cabin, they were helpless to do anything.

* * *

Katniss was watching Peeta swing their daughter around the living room, their laughter bringing a grin to her face, when she felt it, a slight rumbling. Peeta and Wren didn't notice at first, caught up in their spinning antics, but then they heard it as soon as Katniss did—a distant bang.

Peeta wrenched to a stop, cradling Wren close to him, and his eyes met Katniss'. "What was that?" he asked, voicing both their thoughts.

She shook her head, but before she could respond, they felt another rumbling that lightly shook the ground underneath them and the cabin around them. More bangs followed.

"Daddy? Why did we stop spinning?" Wren squeaked, oblivious to what had consumed her parents' attentions. Peeta quickly deposited her in Katniss' lap on the couch.

"Let me look outside," he said, and Katniss sat up in alarm, clutching Wren to her chest.

"Peeta!" she called after him, but he was at the door in an instance, flinging it open wide enough so he could peer outside. "Peeta, be careful!"

He craned his neck outside as he searched for the source of the sound, the house continuing to shake ever so slightly with every distant clap—it almost sounded like thunder, a faraway storm, but it would need to be closer to shake their house the way it was.

Finally, Peeta shut the door and stalked back inside. "I think it's coming from District 12," he said seriously, his face pinched with concern and confusion.

"What's District 12?" Wren demanded, wriggling in Katniss' arms.

"What do you think is happening?" Katniss asked, ignoring her daughter's protestations. Suddenly a thought struck her, a nearly forgotten memory pulling at the threads of her mind, and her eyes widened. She'd only felt something similar once in her life. "Could it be the mines? An explosion?" Suddenly, she was thinking about Gale and all the other Seam people she knew who slaved away down in those catacombs day in and day out.

"Maybe…" Peeta said uncertainly. "That's a lot of explosions for the mines, though."

"What's mines?" Wren asked. When her question went unanswered again, she raised her voice to a shrill pitch. "Daddy, what is mines?"

He winced. "They're places where people dig up coal—rocks, basically, for energy."

"En-er-gy?"

"Energy makes light, for example," he explained hastily as he circled around the couch to sit beside them, but then he elaborated. "It makes light by making a fire, like that," he said, pointing to the candles they used at night.

Katniss could see the questions brimming in Wren's face, so she intervened before Peeta could get dragged into a neverending explanation of how energy worked. "Peeta, I'm scared for them," she whispered, and he wrapped his arms around them, pinning Wren between them.

"Me, too."

They sat there for a while for a while, listening to the explosions, feeling the shock waves reverberate through their bodies. Hoping the sounds wouldn't move closer.

* * *

The next morning, after very little sleep with Wren wedged between them in their bed, Katniss got up as soon as it was light enough outside. "I'm going to see what happened," she declared. The explosions had stopped hours ago.

Peeta squinted at her in confusion, groggily sitting up. "You're going to go to Twelve? Katniss, it's not safe—" he insisted, trying to keep his voice low even as the alarm grew in it.

"Peeta, I need to know my family is safe," she interrupted, leveling him with a somber look. "Yours, too."

He stared at her before shaking his head. "Then I'll come with you—"

"And leave Wren here alone? Or drag her out there with us?" Katniss asked in exasperation, and he clenched his jaw.

"You can't go by yourself."

"I'll take my bow. I'll be careful. I just need to know, Peeta," she stressed. She could see the conflict in his eyes. "If I sense anything wrong, I'll come back immediately. I swear."

He huffed. "Fine," he gritted out, falling back down to the bed. Katniss knew if it weren't for their daughter, he'd be adamant about following her out there. She crawled across the bed, dipping her head to kiss him. He softened, but his eyes were still troubled.

"I'll be careful. You know I can handle myself with a bow."

"If you're not back by the afternoon, I'm coming out there for you."

After kissing Wren's forehead, Katniss got dressed and then grabbed her bow, quickly setting out the door. She walked quickly in the direction of Twelve, and once she felt close enough, she found a tall tree to climb so she could scout the area. When she'd reached the highest possible branch, she settled against the trunk as close as possible and peered above the leaves. Her eyes immediately narrowed when she saw thick, black smoke billowing into the air.

Exactly where Twelve was.

"Shit," she cursed, her mind reeling. That was no mine explosion.

She was just about to scramble back down the tree when she saw movement in the distance. Her eyes honed in on the source, through the foliage. Her breath caught in her chest when she discerned the movement a moment later: people.

And  _lots_ of them.

Her heart began to hammer against her ribs, and she hugged the tree tighter, frozen as she tried to figure out what to do. Her first instinct was to hide, to stay in the tree until the threat disappeared, but then she thought of Peeta and Wren—she had to get back to them, to warn them.

With that moment of clarity, she pushed back to shimmy down the tree, but as she gave the crowd one last glance, she noticed something else; their appearances became much clearer. The people were dressed in dirty rags, their skin olive and hair dark. They were  _Seam_ people, she realized with a shock.

Wriggling off her branch, Katniss scaled down the tree. She hit the ground with a thud just as the front line of the wandering crowd broached her hiding spot. They jerked to a stop, causing the others behind them to collide with their backs. "What are you doing out here?" she barked, bringing her bow around to her front so they knew she was armed. "What are you looking for?"

"Katniss?"

The voice pulled her up short with a gasp, and she whirled toward the sound as a petite blonde-headed woman pushed her way past a few of the Seam folk.

"Mom?" she croaked.

"Katniss!" Another familiar voice called out to her, and suddenly Prim was darting toward her as well. The three of them embraced in a clumsy, forceful hug.

"What happened? What are you all doing out here?" Katniss cried, pulling back to look at them. Their faces were weary and streaked in ash. She looked behind them to see Prim's family coming up to them. As far as Katniss could tell, just from a cursory scan of the crowd, they were the only Merchants there.

"They bombed the whole district."

That voice. It wasn't either her mother or Prim who answered. Katniss turned her head in the direction of that familiar, gruff voice she hadn't heard in years. Gale. His family stood with him, a boy about Wren's age and an infant in Lorena's arms, as he stared at her from a few feet away, his face mirroring her mother's and Prim's.

"Bombed...?" she repeated dumbly, and he shook his head disbelievingly.

"I didn't know what to believe when your mom said you were out here. That she knew where to take us," he said slowly, almost to himself. "You've been out here all this time? Everyone thought you were dead."

Katniss hesitated in answering him. She didn't think she could confess she'd been living out in the woods with Peeta all this time. What kind of trouble would that invite, even from Seam people like her? She shook her head. "What do you mean they bombed the whole district? Who? Why?"

"Have you not...have you not been watching the Games?" Gale asked incredulously. "Have you not been watching the Capitol news the past year? And what happened during the Games last year with the boy from the Seam?"

"No," she answered weakly, struggling to follow him. "We don't—there's no TV out here. And the fence has been on for months now; I couldn't get back into town—"

"Not anymore," he interjected. "They turned it off. They turned all the power off yesterday. Just before the bombs came. We only had enough time to warn some people before they dropped. We couldn't get everybody out..." he trailed off, and she realized with horror what he was saying. These people right here were the only survivors from District Twelve. "We've been wandering in the woods ever since, trying to find whatever safekeeping your mother promised us."

Katniss looked back at her family with concern, as she thought about Peeta and Wren back at the cabin. She didn't want to expose them to any danger, but she knew she couldn't just leave these people to die out here in the woods. Chewing her lip, she nodded. "I can take you somewhere," she agreed, and she could feel palpable relief permeate through the crowd at her words. But she still needed to know. "Why did the Capitol destroy the district? What's happening?"

Gale's gray eyes flashed then, with something she couldn't pinpoint—anger? Excitement? His face set with determination as he said the next words, "It's a rebellion, Katniss. The revolution has begun."


End file.
